A Winter with a Burglar
by Dwarven Lass
Summary: The peace of Bilbo Baggin's quiet retirement is shattered when a grown-up Kíli turns up on his doorstep along with his nephew and two children, with a rather big favour to ask of him. Set some years after the events of the Hobbit. No slash.
1. Chapter 1 - A Dwarf at the Door

**A blend of book and movie verse, along with my own denial of the tragic ending of the Hobbit. **

It was official, Frodo Baggins decided one morning. Bag End was a simply delightful place to live. A more cheerful, snug, and welcoming hobbit hole couldn't be found from Hobbiton to Tuckborough. The larder was always full; there was a beautiful garden in the back; and he actually had his own bedroom, which seemed an unimaginable luxury after months in crowded Brandy Hall. And Bilbo Baggins was the perfect uncle, he concluded. He was always there when Frodo needed him, but not to the point of being overly nosy or prying. They had gotten along remarkably well the past two years.

The only drawback at all was that there weren't very many hobbits his age nearby. He missed his younger cousin Merry, and the endless supply of relations for games of conkers or ninepins. The closest person in their twenties that he knew was Lotho Sackville-Baggins, someone he'd learned to avoid very quickly after moving here.

"Is the tea ready Frodo, or have you drowned in the kettle?" Bilbo called out cheerfully from the dining room.

"Almost," Frodo replied, grinning despite himself. He plunked the kettle on the tray, followed by two small biscuits and a generously heaped plate of cookies. Careful not to trip over the stack of books by the doorway, he brought the tray and mugs out into the dining room.

"You planning to eat all those yourself?" asked Bilbo, raising an eyebrow at the monstrous heap of cookies.

"Well, I _did _make them, so that makes me entitled to most, if not all, of them." Frodo declared in a mock-serious tone, settling into his comfortable window seat, tea in hand.

"Hmph," grunted Bilbo, pretending to be cross. "Well, we'll just see what happens when I tell you the same thing at supper."

"Then I guess I'll be eating at the Gamgees' tonight," said Frodo, imitating Bilbo's stern voice perfectly.

Bilbo chuckled at that. Frodo did as well, taking pleasure in just having someone to really talk and joke with, and once again resolved to be eternally grateful to his uncle for taking him in. Friends or not, Bag End was perfect the way it was.

"Speaking of the Gamgees'," said Bilbo, in between munches of biscuit. "Hamfast should be by later today to plant the bulbs before the frost comes, so get the door if someone knocks. I'll be in my study."

"Writing your book?" asked Frodo innocently.

"When are you going to stop pestering me about that?" sighed Bilbo.

"But Uncle Bilbo, you _need _to write a book. Your stories are amazing! They're almost as good as all the elf tales you read me."

"Dream on, lad," said Bilbo, ruffling his nephew's hair on his way to the study. "And don't forget about your copywork. I want the rest of chapter two of _Tales of the West _written out in your best handwriting before you go out today."

Frodo drained the rest of his cup of tea and happily pulled out his workbook. That was another great thing about Bag End. There was an abundant supply of books.

...

Two hours later, Frodo was not so sure about that last sentiment. _Why _were the pages so big and the words so long and the text so small? Did everyone speak like the elves back then, in what was practically poetry? When the doorbell finally rang, he sprang out of his chair and dashed down the hall, immensely grateful for the distraction. Before the bell could be rung a second time he eagerly flung the door open, not bothering to check and look if it was the gardener.

What he saw shocked him profoundly. Instead of the stooped figure of Hamfast Gamgee with a hoe in hand, a tall dark-haired dwarf stood on the step, with a bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. His bearded face smiled cheerfully, and he politely inquired, "Hello there. I'm looking for-"

Frodo slammed the door in his face.

"Uncle Bilbo!" he shrieked, hurtling down the hall. "Come quick!"

"Was that Hamfast?" asked Bilbo, looking up from his desk. Frodo shocked him by grabbing his hand and half dragging him towards the door.

"There's a strange dwarf at the door who's looking for you!" gasped Frodo. "He's got weapons!"

Bilbo looked startled for a moment, but quickly recovered. "Well, there's no reason to be so horrified about it. It's been a few years since Balin's visited. Now's your chance to meet him."

He strode off down the hall, and Frodo followed close behind. He probably shouldn't have slammed the door in the dwarf's face, he thought guiltily. But it was just so _unexpected _to have him pop up like that! Still, he resolved to try and be more welcoming to friends of Bilbo.

His uncle calmly opened the door, revealing the visibly uncomfortable stranger standing outside. His face brightened as soon as he saw Bilbo however.

"Bilbo Baggins! So you do still live here! I thought I'd come to the wrong house and scared some hobbit child half to death. Kíli, at your service." he finished with a friendly half-bow.

Bilbo looked momentarily shocked, but was soon vigorously shaking Kíli's hand and patting him on the back. "Kíli! I never expected you to visit! It's wonderful to see you again! How's the life of a prince been? And who are these fine dwarflings?"

For the first time Frodo noticed the three small dwarves standing behind Kíli, along with a pony by the front gate. The oldest of them was about his height, but the other two were much shorter. One of them looked to be a girl, but it was hard to tell, as their coats were the same length along with their hair.

Kili's smile grew even wider, a fact Frodo would have thought to be impossible. He beckoned the dwarflings forward.

"Allow me to introduce my brother's son and eventual heir, Finn. This lass here is my own headstrong daughter Dís, named for her grandmother."

The golden haired boy bowed, and the maiden beside him curtsied. So she was a girl, thought Frodo with interest.

"Pleased to meet you both, Master Finn and Lady Dís," said Bilbo formally. The girl flashed him a smile through her wild dark hair while her cousin simply nodded.

"And this is my youngest, Taurion." Kíli finished, patting the smallest dwarf on the head. The boy remained staring at the stone steps, hand firmly clasped with the girl's.

"And I'm pleased to meet you as well, little fellow," said Bilbo, getting down to see the boy at eyelevel. The dwarfling briefly glanced up to look at him before returning his gaze to the ground.

"Now Taurion, don't be rude," his father chided gently.

"Taurion? Isn't that an Elvish name?" asked Bilbo, straightening up.

"It is." said Kíli with a hint of weary exasperation. "And as far as most of my family and the general public is concerned, his name is Thror."

Frodo barely smothered a laugh. He couldn't think of a name that suited the shy little dwarf before him less.

Both Kíli and Bilbo turned to look at him at the sound.

"This is my nephew Frodo Baggins. He's recently come to live here with me after he was orphaned. Sorry about the mistake with the door earlier, he isn't usually so rude," said his uncle, giving him a disapproving look.

"Forgive me," said Frodo, ducking his head as he blushed. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Kíli."

"No problem at all," said Kíli easily, "We've had far less welcoming greetings."

"Not that I'm not delighted to see you again," said Bilbo after a moment's pause. "But what's brought this sudden visit about?"

Kíli's cheerful demeanour instantly took on a grim appearance. "Perhaps we'd better talk inside."

"Of course, of course!" said Bilbo. "Terribly sorry to keep you standing at the door. Come in at once."

The dwarves tramped inside and began to hang up their hoods and coats. Bilbo bustled about putting the kettle on and pulling already prepared food out of the pantry. Frodo followed him into the kitchen, but hung by the door to listen to their guests.

"Did you tie the pony properly, Finn?" asked Kíli as he unslung his bow.

"Yes, Uncle Kíli," said the blonde boy promptly. The girl made a face at him when her father wasn't looking and mouthed 'Goody-goody'. Finn rolled his eyes at that and ruffled her braids. She responded by good-naturedly kicking him in the shins and turned to gently pull her younger brother's coat off. Frodo watched their fond bickering with a tinge of longing.

...

After supper, a drawn out affair in which a shocking amount of food had been consumed, even by hobbit standards, the reason for the dwarves' visit was again brought up.

"And how is the state of affairs in the Lonely Mountain?" inquired Bilbo after congratulating Kíli on his marriage three decades past.

"Not good at all, I'm afraid," said Kíli, absently rubbing his chin. Frodo noticed he appeared to have a decent length beard. The dwarf must have been working on it since the quest.

"Uncle Thorin's health has been very poorly lately, ever since a hunting accident two years ago, and there's been talk of him abdicating the throne in favour of my brother. But dissident dwarves, mostly those from the Iron Hills, have been vehemently protesting against it. They insist one of their own ought to be king instead, namely Dáin, as he is a direct descendant of Durin, unlike Fíli who only inherits it from his mother's side."

"But that's ridiculous!" protested Bilbo. "Thorin has named Fíli as his heir, has he not? How can they argue with that?"

"Be that as it may, he would be the first king under the mountain not of a direct son-to-son decent from Durin the Deathless. Certain influential dwarves are fighting axe and hammer against his ascension, using everything from the fact his grandfather went insane to their assistance in the Battle of the Five Armies, for which they've been well repaid I might add." Kíli paused to pull out and light his pipe.

"It's gotten to the point where things are beginning to get dangerous. Death threats, attempted kidnappings, and the like. I feared for their safety," he said, gesturing at the dwarflings. Finn and Dís looked indignant at that.

"There was only _one _kidnapper, and Finn and I managed to shove him off the balcony ourselves," the girl muttered under her breath

Kíli ignored this and continued on.

"Fíli and I agreed it would be best to remove our children to less hostile regions. We tried to convince our wives to accompany them, but Hèndra refused to leave Fíli during this trying time and Ida…" Kíli shrugged with an accepting smile. "…made it very clear that I would be of better use defending our children than staying home and driving everyone else to distraction. She manages the politics better than I ever did. So that is why we set out for the Blue Mountains two months ago."

"And what changed your mind?" asked Bilbo.

"I received a letter by raven from Fíli less than a week ago. Thorin's health is much worse. My presence is apparently required after all in the Mountain, and as soon as possible," Kíli finished.

"Ah," said Bilbo tactfully. "So I suppose you came here to rest before returning to Erebor. The Blue Mountains are, after all, still some weeks away."

"Actually, I was hoping you could look after them."

Frodo had never seen his uncle look so flabbergasted. It was actually quite funny.

"Me! You can't be serious!" he spluttered. "Guard the heirs to the throne of Erebor? Raise three young dwarves in the Shire? I just turned ninety last week! Honestly Kíli, what gave you this absurd idea!"

"Calm down, Bilbo," said Kíli soothingly. "It will be perfectly fine, I'm sure. The Shire's the last place anyone would look for them. They'll be even safer here than in the Blue Mountains. And you're the company burglar, who rescued us from the spiders and elves and stole treasure from right under the dragon Smaug's nose. I'm positive you can manage this."

Bilbo wasn't convinced. It took well over an hour for Kíli's charm and silver tongue to bring him round. Frodo was just bring the pie out for dessert (thank heavens Bilbo had been giving him cooking lessons yesterday!) when his uncle begrudgingly admitted Kíli might be right.

"Well, I _suppose _what you say makes sense. But we're not discussing a night's stay here. This is all through the autumn and quite possibly winter too! That's far too long for any child to be away from their family."

"But there's no other way around it. I'll be riding back to Erebor during the worst time of year for traveling. By the time the mess with the ascension sorts itself out and it will safe for my nephew and children to return it will be at least several months."

Frodo didn't catch his uncle's grumbled response, he was too busy cutting perfectly equal pie slices, determined to be just a good as host as Bilbo.

"Cream or no cream?" he asked Taurion politely, since he was the youngest.

"Lots and lots of cream." said the small dwarf softly, speaking for the first time since he had come inside.

"Tauri! Say please. Adad told us to use hobbit manners, remember?" scolded his sister.

"Lots and lots of cream, please?" whispered the little boy, ducking his head and swinging his small feet that couldn't reach the floor, even when sitting on a hobbit bench.

Frodo smiled and poured a lavish amount of chilled cream over the pumpkin pie slice.

Both Finn and Dís accepted equally large ladles of cream, and while the girl managed to eat her slice delicately, Finn and Taurion devoured theirs with the same gusto with which they had attacked the rest of the meal.

"So good," said Finn, in between forkfuls of pie. "This is our first real meal since we left the Mountain."

Frodo was about to ask how they had survived for two months without eating when Kíli clapped his hands together, apparently having finally fully convinced Bilbo.

"That settles it then. Children, you will be staying here with Mr. Baggins and his nephew until I or your mother or aunt come back to fetch you, which will probably be sometime after Yuletide."

Frodo expected a storm of outburst at the announcement, but nothing but a stoic silence greeted his ears. All three young dwarves glared at Kíli with wordless resentment.

The dwarf sighed.

"I know you're not happy about leaving. You've made that very clear from the day we set out. But there's nothing to be done about it now. I'll be able to travel much faster back to the Mountain on my own."

Slowly the dwarflings nodded their heads. But they looked anything from convinced, Frodo thought.

"Very good then." said Bilbo, standing up and gathering the dishes. "Now let's see about the spare rooms."

...

Early the next morning, after a light breakfast (Kíli insisted he couldn't stay for second, however much he'd like to), the prince went down to the Hobbiton pub to retrieve their packs from the public stable.

"Now I've arranged for your ponies to be cared for over the winter, but make sure you check on them often and take them out for exercise," Kíli instructed Finn and Dís as he stacked their packs in the hall. Both children nodded obediently, and Dís held out the quiver and bow to her father. Kíli smiled at her fondly as he took them and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Bilbo watched the affectionate exchange and marvelled out how much the young reckless dwarf had grown up. It seemed only yesterday he'd been washed down a river with Kíli whooping in between the drenching waves, or helplessly stood back as the dwarf and his brother threw his best plates around the dining room, singing a comic song purely to annoy him. Hard to believe that rascal had turned into this serious young father. But then, Kíli had been through plenty of terrors since then, Bilbo reflected, thinking of poisoned arrows and a certain horrific battle.

"Do you think I _want _to leave Taurion and Dís, or Finn here, Bilbo? To be separated from my children and nephew for months on end? What I want is for them to be _safe_, to have an ordinary childhood with a home and no fear of being killed or attacked," the dwarf had said to him while making his case the previous evening. "Amad and Uncle Thorin always did their best to protect me and Fíli from the dangers of the world, but that didn't stop the feeling that we didn't belong anywhere or that we could never feel truly at ease. That's why I brought them here, to rest in the safety of the Shire, instead of being forced to live under the constant threat of danger in Erebor."

It was that final heartfelt plea that had broken through his defences and overruled his objections last night, reflected Bilbo. Keep the young ones safe, and give them a loving home. He automatically moved his arm to rest on his sleepy nephew's shoulder, who wasn't used to getting up quite so early.

"I know that you'll make your father proud, Finn." said Kíli, patting his nephew on the back. "And as for you-" he paused to scoop Taurion off the floor. "Make sure you listen to your sister and cousin. They'll look after you. And mind that _all _of you listen to Mr. Baggins. I want to hear a good report when I come back."

Taurion simply clung harder to his father.

"Don't leave me," he whispered. "What if you don't come back?"

Kíli closed his eyes in pain, no doubt thinking of his own father who had never come back, leaving him and Fíli alone. "I promise mizimith that I'll try my very hardest not to let that happen. Your Adad's been through a lot, and I'll have more peace of mind knowing that you're safe here."

Taurion blinked back his tears and slowly slid down to once again clutch Dís' hand.

"Safe travels, Kíli. We'll be watching for you every day come the new year," said Bilbo.

"Bye, Mr. Kíli," said Frodo, smothering a yawn.

"Farewell to you both," said Kíli solemnly, aiming another half-bow in Frodo's direction, causing the small hobbit to smile. "It's been wonderful to visit you, Bilbo. I never thought I'd see the inside of your charming hobbit hole again."

"Yes, well, I'm glad you got my name right this time." Bilbo jested.

Kíli sighed in mock exasperation. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Most certainly not. Give my regards to your family," said the hobbit.

"Will do," Kíli promised. He turned back to face the dwarflings. "Be good. I love you all."

As one they surged around their father, or in Finn's case uncle, firmly trapping him in an iron hug. He embraced them all warmly, murmuring several endearments in the dwarven language Khuzdul. After a long moment he regretfully pried his way free, his eyes gleaming with what might have been tears. Grasping his pack, he strode out through the door and slung it over his back. The children crowded around the round doorframe and called out a torrent of farewells after him.

"Bye, Adad! We love you!"

"Come back soon! Tell Amad I miss her!"

"Please don't be too long Adad! Come back safe!"

They waved fiercely the whole while, despite the fact Kíli was barely out of the garden. He paused as he shut the gate behind him and waved back, looking as though he was doing his best to put on a cheerful appearance. He then turned and strode off down the path, though he couldn't help looking back every few moments and waving. Taurion, despite his quivering lip and frantically fluttering arm, managed not to burst into tears through heroic effort on his part. All three dwarves stood and watched until Kíli disappeared around the bend.

When the prince could be seen no longer, Bilbo gently closed the door. He turned and faced the three young dwarflings, who all stared up at him with questioning and somewhat challenging eyes.

Just what had he gotten himself into?

**Well, I hope you enjoyed that! I certainly had fun writing it. I've already plotted the rest of the story (about two chapters) out, so I'll update soon depending on the response this gets. This is only my second fic, so please review if you thought it was any good. Thanks for reading!**

***A note on names: I named Finn after Fíli and Kíli's father in one of Hobbsy3's stories, as it's my favourite of the character's possible names. Taurion comes from the elvish words 'taurë' meaning 'forest' and 'ion' which means 'son of'. A literal translation would be 'son of the forest' the same way Tauriel means 'daughter of the forest'. Kíli named his son after her out of gratitude for saving his life and to honour their friendship, a fact his wife Ida was perfectly agreeable with, in case you were wondering.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Attempted Escape

"It's too dark. I can't see what I'm doing, Dís,''

"Shhh!"

"Where's my coat?"

"Shhh!"

"I'm lighting a candle,"

"Don't! Someone might see. Besides, we almost have everything,''

"Dís? Can you help me find my boot?"

"It's right here, Tauri. Now both of you be quiet!"

Finn resentfully lapsed into a sullen silence. Why did his cousin have to be so bossy? He was the oldest, after all. It was at her insistence they were trying to gather their clothes and possessions in the middle of the night.

The previous day hadn't gone too badly, now that he thought about it. Burglar Baggins had been very kind and accommodating to them, though for some reason he'd seemed rather shocked when he had been addressed by that name. Finn had explained that was just what he'd always heard the older dwarves call him and he'd meant no offence. The hobbit was quick to assure him that none had been taken but that Mr. Baggins or just Bilbo was fine.

The meals had been particularly wonderful. It seemed hobbits really did eat every other hour, something Finn had been delighted to discover. The Burglar's nephew Frodo Baggins had reminded Taurion at least twice he didn't need to take a third helping of whatever the small dwarf was interested in, as elevensies or lunch was just around the corner.

The hobbit hole had been especially fun to explore. It was just so _different _than the mountain halls Finn had lived his whole life in, with curved passages that led to a multitude of snug little wood-paneled bedrooms. Frodo had shown them around after dinner, and the entire place had a homey, comfortable air, and seemed on the whole to be a very pleasant place to live.

It was a shame they couldn't stay. He had almost been tempted to consider the idea, but Dís had squashed the notion the moment he mentioned it out loud.

"We are most certainly not staying here, Finn!" she had hissed as they were following Frodo on a tour through the back garden. "Adad may think he's doing the right thing by leaving us here 'out of harm's way' but we belong with him and the other dwarrow back in Erebor!"

Which is where they were planning to return, as soon as they were dressed.

...

The soft mumble of hushed voices woke Frodo Baggins from his sleep. At least, the speakers may have thought they were hushed, but to the young hobbit's sensitive ears they were as about as quiet as several grunting pigs in the pantry. Were all dwarves that noisy?

Several remarks made by his uncle on the wretched stealth skills of the rest of the Company floated to mind, and caused Frodo to smile to himself as he rolled over to fall back asleep.

But the mumbling voices briefly increased in volume, followed by a dull _thunk. _Frodo's curiosity got the better of him and he slipped out of bed to see if their young guests needed anything. Perhaps Taurion had forgotten the location of the bathroom and his sister and cousin were debating who was to take him to search for it.

The small hobbit silently slipped down the hall and stopped by the door of the occupied guestroom. The three dwarves had insisted on sharing a bed, something Bilbo had been happy enough to oblige.

All was silent now. Perhaps they had all gone back to sleep. Frodo felt rather foolish standing alone in the hallway in the dark. But a chill breeze wafted through the slightly ajar door and pushed it further open, revealing an empty bed and open window. The dwarflings had left.

Frodo briefly panicked internally and considered running to get Bilbo. But the older hobbit was terribly hard to rouse from sleep (he had discovered this when he had once accidently set fire to his bedroom curtains with a wayward candle), and by then then the dwarflings might be gone for good. Making up his mind, Frodo impulsively climbed out through the window and out onto the wet lawn, and set out into the dark after the dwarves.

...

Finn struggled to pull the bridle over his pony`s head in the dim light of the moon shining through the stable skylight. Where was the thrice-blasted buckle- ah, here it was.

"Easy there, Mabel," he murmured, rubbing his mount's soft nose. Mabel nickered softly back at him, as if to say '_What's all this fuss about? You ought to be in your bed, and both of us asleep'._

"Yes I know, Mabel." he assured her. "I hope you don't mind, but it's very important we catch up with Uncle Kíli before he breaks camp tomorrow morning. Otherwise we'll never be able to meet up with him."

Mabel didn't seem convinced. At least she consented to follow him out of the stall when Finn tugged at her halter. They made their way through the stable and out into the open moonlit courtyard.

"Dís? Have you got your pony saddled?" he whispered back into the building.

His cousin emerged after a few minutes leading her pony with Taurion perched on top, accompanied by the sound of clanking metal bits and clopping hooves. Finn winced. It was a wonder they hadn't woken anyone up yet. He had heard a great deal from his uncle and father on the subject of hobbit sneakiness, and had tried very hard for that reason to make as little noise as possible. Thankfully, hobbits didn't seem to lock their doors at night, let alone post guards at public buildings, so they had been spared that difficulty.

"Can you try and be a just a _bit_ louder? I almost didn't hear you coming," Finn said with a straight face.

"It's not likely you're any better. I'm sure half the neighbourhood heard you talking to your pony." she retorted bitingly.

His mouth gaped open, and he was about to issue a torrent of sharp comebacks when Dís cut him off.

"Quiet! We'll discuss it on the way. Now do we have everything?''

Finn was just about to respond in the affirmative when a polite cough sounded behind him. He and Dís whirled around to behold the figure of Frodo Baggins standing the middle of the courtyard.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but ah, where are you going?"

By Durin! Hobbits really were unnaturally good at sneaking about. Finn racked his mind for a reasonable excuse, but given the compromising circumstances, none seemed even remotely plausible. He looked for Dís to say something. She was the best at talking their way out of trouble. Finn had seen her convince the fiercesome Mr. Dwalin himself to hold his tongue about burgled cookies and the like. But in this particular instance, there really was nothing they could say but the truth.

"We're going after Adad. He always takes it easy on the first day of a journey, and if we ride through the night we should be able to catch up with him," Dís stated boldly, as if daring the hobbit to challenge her.

Frodo nodded his head thoughtfully. "Well, if you think that's the best course, I won't try to stop you. Safe travels!" He stepped back to let them pass.

The three dwarflings stared at him in silence. "We're not going to just stay here, having a _holiday _while Adad and Amad and Uncle Fíli and Auntie Héndra decide the fate of Erebor! It's our duty as heirs of Durin to follow Adad home." Dís insisted further.

"Of course it is, and I wouldn't want to impede you in your noble task," Frodo agreed. The dwarves stared at him a moment longer, trying to see if really meant it. Frodo gestured towards the open gate, in a 'be my guest' motion.

Finn and Dís set to work securing the last of their belongings and prepared to mount their ponies. Frodo inched forward to rub Mabel's soft nose.

"I'm actually quite in awe of you for doing this," he said in a conversational way. "Setting out in the dark after Mr. Kíli, traveling across the open country in the night, without any maps or anything at all to guide you. You might not even reach him in time, and then you'll be stuck traveling across the Misty Mountains all by yourselves just as winter starts. But you're dwarves, so you can hunt for provisions and starving at least won't be a concern."

Dís froze with her foot in the saddle. "Finn, you have the maps, don't you? They were in your saddle bag."

Finn rummaged through his bag. Even in the dark, he could tell they weren't there. "It ah, appears Uncle Kíli took them with him when he left. Which make quite a lot of sense, now that I think about it."

Dís turned to Frodo with the fiercesome scowl on her face that she had inherited from her namesake. "Maps alone aren't enough to stop us! We can navigate by the stars. And my father and uncle were fighting orcs and goblins at our age and went on to slay a dragon! "

"Following the stars might be a bit difficult on a night like this," said Frodo pointedly. All four looked up to see the inky blackness of the clouds that had blown in, obscuring the moon and the stars with it. A chill breeze blew through the stable yard, and the hobbit shivered. He looked simply freezing in his thin night shirt. Finn felt a twinge of guilt for having his own thick fur-lined coat.

"-And your uncle and father didn't go on a quest until they were a few decades older. It might be a good idea for you to do the same." Frodo added finally.

No one could argue with that. Suddenly their idea of riding off into the night after Uncle Kíli seemed the height of foolishness to Finn. He felt tired and wished he was back in the warm hobbit featherbed.

"What are we supposed to do them? Simply sit around and eat six meals a day until Adad comes back?" asked Dís after several moments.

"Oh no, Uncle Bilbo would never allow that," said Frodo with a laugh. Suddenly a brilliant idea appeared to occur to the hobbit, and he grinned deviously. "There's actually plenty of interesting things to do in the Shire. Take raiding for example. Only the bravest hobbit tweens do that."

"Raiding?" asked Finn uncertainly. The very notion seemed completely contrary to everything he had ever heard of hobbits.

"Oh yes. It's one of our favourite pastimes." Frodo said confidently. "_Vegetable_ raiding that is. Nicking cabbages and carrots and best of all, mushroomsfrom the most formidable of farmers."

Oh. That made sense, and seemed very hobbit-ish after all. "Stealing mushrooms doesn't seem that exciting or dangerous," Finn said, unconvinced.

"Don't make any judgements until you try it. I have thwarted angry farmers with scythes, their vicious wild dogs, and lived to tell the tale. Have _you_ nicked any vegetables from Shire farmers in your life?"

All three dwarves slowly shook their heads. "Well, that's decided. We'll go back to Bag End, catch a few hours' sleep, and after breakfast I will be taking to you on your first vegetable raid," declared Frodo.

Finn met Dís' eye. They reached an unspoken agreement. Without another word, they led their ponies back inside the stable and unsaddled them. They then followed the hobbit back up the hill to Bag End.

...

"Everyone slept well last night, I hope" said Bilbo the next morning as he served the scrambled eggs. A short silence stretched out before Frodo innocently said, "Well enough. It was a bit drafty and the moonlight kept me up a bit, but otherwise I slept well."

"That is what curtains are for, to prevent that from happening," said Bilbo with a raised eyebrow. Frodo raised his own eyebrow back at him. Bilbo took the hint, knowing Frodo would tell him later, and dropped the subject.

"It looks to be a lovely day outside. I think will enjoy my tea in the garden. Do you have any plans for today?" he asked Finn.

"Frodo said he would show about Hobbiton, Burglar Bag- uh, Mr. Bilbo," stuttered Finn.

"What an excellent idea. Any more eggs, anyone?" A chorus of polite refusals met his ears. The older hobbit looked around at the circle of eagerly fidgeting dwarves and his nephew. Taurion swung legs under his chair and wriggled in his seat.

"Well, I shan't force you. Go on then, I'll wash up."

"Thank you, Uncle Bilbo!" exclaimed Frodo, as they jumped to their feet as one and headed to the door. His uncle caught him by the back of his collar.

"Don't go getting into too much mischief now. It's only their second day," Bilbo warned. Frodo nodded his head obediently. Not _too _much mischief was a very relative term, after all. "And stay clear of the Sackville-Bagginses."

Frodo shuddered. "Of course, Uncle. That goes without saying."

"Good lad," said Bilbo with a smile, and then Frodo was free.

He bounded down the front steps after the dwarves and started to lead the way at a run down the row.

"Where are we going?" called Finn behind him as the dwarflings practically tripped over each other trying to keep up.

"Halfway to Bywater! You would have passed it on your way here!" Frodo called back. Halfway to Bywater, to a certain prosperous farm, to steal mushrooms (and pumpkins, if there happened to be any) from the dreaded Farmer Hodgkin.

**Thanks for reading! I made a small change to the last chapter regarding the reason Iron Hills dwarves were contesting Fíli's right to rule, changing their complaint from his age to the fact he's not a direct paternal descendant of Durin the Deathless. This in my mind made it more plausible. Thanks to the reviewer who pointed that out.**

**Please leave a review if you have a moment. It's very vexing as an author when people simply follow your story without telling you why they thought it was worth following. Reader feedback is extremely important, and I always respond personally. **

**And now, a freezing farewell from Canada, where it is already starting to snow (I'm sitting here shivering in front of my computer) **


	3. Chapter 3 - An Excellent Plan Goes Wrong

_**For Cindy Azalea **_

The yard of the Hodgkin farm was a peaceful enough scene. Several ducks preened their feathers on the bank of a small pond, while overhead the line of fresh washing flapped in the wind. The small house was partially shaded by large apple trees with branches well loaded with the last of the fall harvest. A plump pig nosed its way around the base of a hen house looking for scraps, where an aged farmer was shoveling the soiled bedding into a rickety wheelbarrow.

All were mercifully unaware of the watchful eyes of three dwarflings and a hobbit farther up the hill.

"So what's the plan?" asked Finn, lying on his stomach amongst the rows of pruned cranberry bushes.

Frodo parted the branches slightly and got a clearer look at the farm yard. "Well, it's almost time for elevensies, so Farmer Hodgkin will be going in any minute. Then we scurry down the hill, aim for that shady spot there with all the dead leaves and grass clippings where the mushrooms grow, hope they don't spot us too soon from the kitchen window, and when we're seen we hightail it off that way along the cornfield."

Finn considered this in silence for several moments, furrowing his brow and rubbing his chin. Then-

"That's not a very good plan,"

"No, it certainly isn't," Dís agreed.

"Not good!" piped up Taurion, whose head was almost twisted upside down with his wild black hair and braids caught the cranberry branches. Dís quickly moved to untangle him.

The squeak of an antique door rang out in the farmyard below, followed the shrill cry of the housewife. "Willibald! Tea's on!"

"Half a minute, Melly," Hodgkin called back, shoveling the last remains of the manure into the wheelbarrow. He rested the shovel against the coop and trudged over to the farmhouse wiping his hands on his overalls. The door shut with a bang behind him.

Frodo turned back to face his companions. "Well, it may not be a very clever plan, but it's worked well enough before."

"And you got what, a dozen mushrooms? A small and likely green pumpkin?" Finn asked pointedly.

Frodo shrugged. That was the usual profit of most vegetable raids. "Unless you have a better plan, we'd better hurry. Elevensies is one of the quickest meals of the day."

Finn looked over the farmyard. He took in the wealth of apples on the trees, the line of laundry fastened with a metal clip to the post, the large round kitchen window, and the open door of the henhouse. A smile spread over his face. So much opportunity.

"I've a plan. Do you trust me to wait until luncheon to carry it out?"

Frodo recognised evil genius when he saw it. "Of course. Let's hear it!"

"We're going to need several sacks, a piece of twine, and most importantly of all, Taurion,"

The little dwarf had just managed to untangle himself from the braches and shook his black hair wildly about before staring up at Finn.

"Me?" he squeaked.

"Yes, Tauri. This whole plan is going to rest solidly on you."

…

"The scones, Mell. They're a bit dry today."

"Nonsense, Wilibald. It's the same recipe as yesterday," his wife snapped.

"They're still as about as moist as sawdust…" Hodgkin muttered as he sipped the last of his tea. "I suppose I better go lay the rest of the fresh bedding. The hens'll be getting antsy."

"Then get to it. And fetch me some carrots from the garden. I'm making some stew for supper."

The old farmer grumbled something about manners and pulled his boots on. He pulled open the screen door and stepped out, only to see a small dwarf child sitting in a heap by the porch. His jaw dropped as the child noticed him and lifted up his tear streaked face.

"Dídi's gone!" he wailed. "I can't find her or Finn anywhere! They left me!" The boy broke down into violent sobs with his head buried in his lap.

"Melly, come quick!" Hodgkin called. "There's a lost child here. One wearing shoes, no less!"

"Oh my," exclaimed Melly, coming to the door. She quickly hurried over to the small dwarf and put her arm around him in a motherly way.

"There, there lad. Don't cry so," she hushed.

"Dídi's gone. She left," the boy continued to sob.

"Hush now. Is Didi your sister?"

The sobbing cut off suddenly as the dwarfling looked up and nodded with a trembling chin.

"Where did you lose her?"

"That- that way," said the child, pointing back around the house. He suddenly jumped up and ran in that direction, with Mr. and Mrs. Hodgkin following close behind.

…

Meanwhile, a small hobbit and dwarf lass scampered down the hill at a frantic rate and made for the mulch heap.

"Quick, we only have a minute!" gasped Frodo. This was almost the most terrifying part about burgling mushrooms, the fear of getting caught in the act. Why was he doing this in the first place? Then he saw the rich, plummy mushrooms with their perfectly domed caps and delicate stalks. He could almost smell them in the frying pan. "You hold the sack, Dís. I know which ones to pick."

The girl crouch by the closest mushrooms and held the bag open. Frodo began examining the mushrooms with the utmost care and placing in the sack gently, still hurrying as fast as possible.

After an entire two minutes had gone by with no disturbance, Frodo had already picked three dozen assorted fungi.

"What about those?" asked Dís, pointing to a trio of beautiful yellow capped mushrooms with delicate white spots.

"Don't touch them! Everything about those ones, even the spores, is poisonous."

Dís snatched her hand back, and suddenly a startled shriek caused them both to jump.

"Time to go," they said simultaneously. Frodo laughed and the girl grinned, and both leapt to their feet and took off along the edge of the field.

...

Finn watched from the door of the chicken coop as Taurion led the Hodgkins around the back of the farm house. What a brilliant little actor. He certainly knew how to use his melting brown eyes to the full capacity. Adad had always snorted when he saw Taurion begging for something and said Kíli had done exactly the same thing when he was younger.

Finn dashed across the yard towards the cover of the apple trees and tried to imagine his uncle, the prince of Erebor, making puppy dog eyes. He almost succeeded and snickered all the way into the upper branches of the apple tree. He could vaguely hear the farmer and his wife talking in the back, interspersed with Taurion's dramatic sniffles. Meanwhile he began to rapidly fill his bag with apples. The hobbit had been right, he decided. Not just anyone could burgle vegetables or fruit with such brilliance.

His sack half full (no point being greedy and having a full bag impede his getaway), he slid down out of the tree and ran towards the laundry line. After making a few modifications, he ducked back around to rescue Taurion.

...

"So you're saying you were walking along with your sister along the road there, when she just up and left you?" said Hodgkin slowly.

Taurion nodded cheerfully and continued nibbling on the very delicious candied apple Mrs. Hodgkin had fetched him from the kitchen to coax him to stop crying. The farmer and his wife exchanged worried glances.

"Well then, I'll hitch up the cart and we'll see about taking you into town and making some inquiries about any dwarves in the area," Hodgkin decided.

"Oh! Ah, thank you, but I can find Dídi again by myself. She's probably just hiding over there somewhere," Taurion gestured vaguely in the direction of the woods.

"Nonsense, dear. We can't just let you wander off into the blue," said Mrs. Hodgkin, putting her arm around him again and pinching his cheek.

Hmph. Taurion wished the old woman wouldn't squish him like this. Maybe he should call for Finn right now.

"I'll go get the pony. Come on lad," Hodgkin took his hand and began leading him back around the house.

"FINN!" Taurion suddenly shrieked, wrenching himself free. The farmer and his wife stared on in shock as a blonde bolt of lightning flew around the opposite corner of the house, snatched the dwarfling off his feet and the two disappeared around the other side in the blink of an eye.

When they came to their sense a moment later they set off in hurried pursuit, only to come around the corner and walk smack into the laundry line that been haphazardly zigzagged and stretched across the front yard. Mrs. Hodgkin let loose a shriek that startled the mushroom burglars in the work.

…

"Run!" hollered Finn, ducking under the last row of billowing bed sheets. He paused to snatch the bag of apples alongside the house, and took a few staggering steps forward, trying to balance a weighty little cousin on his back and half a sack of fruit under his arm. Frodo ran forward to grab the bag of apples and the four set off at a terrific pace alongside the nearest cornfield, long braided hair flying in the wind and a pair of bare feet pounding against the ground.

"You're right, this is fun! Definitely not for the faint of heart!" gasped Finn, nearly tripping as he leapt over a rock, Taurion bouncing wildly on his back.

"Told you so!" laughed Frodo. This was by far the best raid he'd ever been on. "Thanks to your excellent plan there!"

"That was nothing, just an example from Mr. Balin's Military Tactics and Strategizations lessons put into action," Finn replied modestly.

"So you _were _paying attention and only pretending to be asleep during tutoring," laughed Dís, running up behind the boys.

"He's after us! Hodgkin's after us!" shrieked Taurion suddenly, looking back from his spot on his cousin's back.

That only pushed them to run harder, and the dwarves and the hobbit sped along the farm path with exhilarated joy. This was unimaginably fun.

Until the sack ripped. Dozens of golden apples spilled out underfoot and sent Finn, unsteady as he already was, crashing to the ground. Frodo followed an instant later, and Dís tripped over the two of them. All four lay in a scrambled heap in the dirt gasping for breath, surrounded by bruised and battered apples. Only the bag of mushrooms made it to safety, sailing through the air until it was snagged on a nearby branch.

Farmer Hodgkin ran up a few moments later, puffing slightly with a large stick in hand. He surveyed the disaster before him grimly, damaged fruit and terrified children all.

"Vegetable raiding. I might have known," he snorted disgustedly.

Perhaps the Shire wasn't as quite as harmless as Uncle Kíli believed, thought Finn.

**So what did you think of that? I'm quite undecided on it. Remember, leaving feedback ensures quicker updates. Let me know if you have any ideas on what you would like to happen. Thanks again for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4 - Stories With Cider

Farmer Hodgkin looked over the tumbled heap of runaway apples and children, shaking his head disapprovingly. Frodo winced under the old hobbit's severe gaze and tried to control his breathing, which was still quite ragged from their mad dash down the path. He had the feeling they were in particularly big trouble.

"Well, in all my days I've never seen a vegetable raid like that. Thieving dwarves, teamed up with a self-respecting hobbit, no less! Mighty unusual. No good will come of it, I'll tell you that," Hodgkin said, shaking his head.

Taurion sat up and rubbed his head, which had received a rather nasty bump. "Does that mean we can go?" he asked innocently.

Hodgkin snorted. "Bless me! Of course not! We take vegetable raiding seriously here. Come on, to your feet the lot of you. And I'll have words with your uncle later about this, Mr. Baggins. "

Frodo groaned inwardly as they stumbled to their feet. Being recognised was something he had quite hoped to avoid. He hadn't gone vegetable raiding (or at least been caught) since he moved to Bag End, and had no idea how his uncle might take it. It seemed to be something much more common in Buckland. Perhaps Bilbo would be terribly disappointed in him, and think him a thief. Frodo began to dread his uncle's likely reaction.

"First gather up the apples, then we'll be heading back to the farmhouse," Hodgkin ordered. The dwarflings and hobbit glumly obeyed.

"Now march!" said Hodgkin with a glint in his eye, as if he was quite enjoying this. The farmer cradled the split sack of apples in one arm, and also grabbed the sack of mushrooms hanging from the bush, much to Frodo's dismay. He had vaguely hoped they might be able to sneak back and retrieve those later.

Frodo fell into step beside Finn as they began walking back down the path. "Sorry about all this. I should have known better than to suggest it in the first place," he whispered.

"Nonsense! We almost made it in any case. Next time, eh?" The dwarf whispered back cheerfully, plucking twigs and leaves out of his blonde hair that he had collected in their fall as they walked.

"Don't worry Frodo, it wasn't your fault about the burst sack. We've planned exploits that went far worse, haven't we Finn?" said Dís, trying to console him.

Finn chuckled, remembering several past disastrous schemes.

"Let's see… There was the time we were playing on the battlements outside The Mountain and the catapult went off, but I think that was mostly Uncle Kíli's fault. And a few weeks after that Dís and I tried sending insults to each other with royal carrier pigeons, but the birds all flew to King Thranduil in Mirkwood instead. We nearly started another war. Oh, and the time Taurion 'accidently' locked Great-uncle Thorin in the private armoury when he was supposed to be attending that opening ceremony. He missed it and ended up coming to my birthday dinner that night instead," Finn finished with a grin.

"But no matter what – what they do, I- I always get dropped," declared Taurion resentfully, panting as he tried to keep up.

Frodo instantly felt bad for the dwarfling and stopped to allow him climb onto his shoulders. He had a moment of difficulty standing upright and moving forward.

"You don't have to do that. I can carry him," said Finn understandingly.

"No- no, it's fine. I've… got it." said Frodo, taking several halting steps.

Some minutes later, Frodo was quite regretting not talking Finn up on that offer.

"Good heavens, Taurion. For such a small dwarf you're certainly not light!"

"That's what everyone says when they carry me," said Taurion happily, working a clumsy braid into the hobbit's hair.

"Well, it's true…"

"Ah, back again," said Hodgkin as they entered the farm yard. "Now come along to the toolshed here." The farmer led the way to a small lean-to and rummaged around inside for several moments. He pulled out a spade and a small pitchfork and handed them to Frodo and Finn, then marched to the far end of the garden patch.

"In payment for the spoiled apples, you lot are going to be doing some chores that my wizened old bones have trouble with. Starting with this tater patch here," Hodgkin jammed a finger in the direction of the plot of earth.

Finn looked from the tool in his hand to moist brown soil and back again.

"But- but I'm a prince of Durin, not a farmhand! Dwarves mine for gold and riches, not potatoes! Royal heirs don't do that sort of thing!" he protested, his entitled upbringing finally coming to the surface.

"Sure yeh are," said Hodgkin gravely. "But if you think yourself good enough to steal my vegetables, you're good enough to pick them."

Finn, despite his indignation, didn't have anything to say to that. Hodgkin saw he had made his point and turned to Dís and Taurion.

"Now that I've settled your brother here, you two can come with me and help with the apple picking, seeing as you're quite capable without ladders. An east wind's blowing in, which means it'll be bitter cold tonight, and I don't want the fruit getting spoiled."

The girl and her brother followed him away without complaint, leaving Frodo and Finn standing in the potato patch.

"Sorry. My father would have spanked me if he heard me say that. He's always been very keen to make sure I didn't grow up feeling 'entitled', or something of that sort," Finn said after a moment.

"That's all right," said Frodo absently. It was getting late. Bilbo was going to start wondering where they were. The trouble with Farmer Hodgkin was going to be hard enough to explain without him being cross at their lateness.

"No, I mean it. I shouldn't have said that at all. I meant no offence to hobbits or their tater patches."

"I know," said Frodo, smiling for a moment. "Now let's dig these potatoes. Gaffer Gamgee showed me how to once."

The two boys eagerly set to work, Finn driving the fork down into the soil with his boot and heaving it up to shake off the earth, while Frodo collected the potatoes that were exposed. More often than not, a potato was impaled on a prong of the fork and split in two. The fifth time that happened, Finn growled in frustration and stamped on the spoiled potato.

"Trickier than it look, isn't it?'' commented Frodo.

"By Durin, shoveling coal is easier than this!" Finn exclaimed.

"I thought princes didn't work or shovel," Frodo teased.

"We don't dig potatoes. I've shoveled plenty of coal with Adad in the forges of The Mountain. "

"Ah. That must have been fun."

"It was," said Finn, remembering the first time he been allowed to help with the work.

_Ramming the shovel into the coal heap with all of his strength, Finn heaved another massive scoop of coal into the ever-hungry fire of the smelting forge, and reached for the bellows that would fan the flames even hotter._

_At least, the few small chunks felt like a massive scoop of coal to the small dwarf, and Fíli watched his son reach for the top handle of the bellow far above the lad's head with a tinge of amusement. _

"_Here, let me help with that," he said as he pushed the handle down within Finn's reach. Then he picked up the shovel and added the necessary remainder of the fuel. Finn bounced up and down off the stone floor, the stiffness of the bellows carrying him a foot off the ground when he jumped._

"_Good work, Finn. The fire's burning well now. Can you fetch me that hammer over there?"_

_As Finn dashed over to the tool rack to grab the smallest hammer he could find, Fíli pulled the small heated bar of metal out of the smelting forge with a pair of tongs and set it on the anvil. He pulled a stool over and set near the workbench. _

"_Up you come," said Fíli, hoisting a grinning Finn up onto the bench. "Whew! That's a big hammer. Are you sure you can manage that?"_

"_I sure!" said Finn certainly, clutching the pen-sized hammer that was typically used to make fine jewelry in his small fist._

_Fíli smiled and ruffled his son's hair, delicately rebraided by Héndra that morning._

"_Good then. Now take the tongs like this-" he paused to fit Finn's hand over the wooden grip. "And hold your hammer like this. Now pound it up and down the length of the sword. Keep your blows strong and steady. Away you go!"_

_Finn frowned with intense concentration and began to hammer away. After a minute of steadying pounding his arm began to waiver and his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, but the hardy little dwarf carried on. Fíli eventually stopped him before the boy tired himself out too much._

"_That's enough for now. You've done excellent work. Soon you'll have a sword to be proud of." _

_Beaming with pride, Finn allowed himself to be lowered back to the floor to put tool away. Fíli seized his own hammer and quickly smoothed out the lumps and ridges from Finn's uncoordinated blows. _

"_Now Finn, we're going to leave this to cool here, and we'll come back tomorrow and heat and hammer it again."_

"_Can us put it in the big bucket, Adad? My like the big cloud it makes! Then my can hammer it again now!"_

"_I know you love the steam clouds mizimith, but the metal's not ready for that yet. It needs to stay soft and pliable until we're finished shaping it. And we don't have time to work on it more today. Did you forget about the feast tonight?"_

_Finn squealed with delight as he remembered. Fíli tidied the last of the tools in the forging station before taking of the leather apron and lifting Finn onto his shoulders. They made their way through the massive chamber filled with dwarves hard at work with their crafts. All made small bows of respect to the prince as he passed them by. Fíli nodded in acknowledgement to each, while Finn remained in happy oblivion to the attention. _

"_Thank you for taking me to the forge today Adad, and showing me how to make swords," Finn said as they exited the chamber._

"_You're very welcome Finn. Did you enjoy learning?"_

"_Uh-huh. Did your adad teach you how make swords too?" _

_Fíli startled a bit at that question. "No, Uncle Thorin did. I was still too young for the forges when my father died,"_

"_Oh. My sorry," Finn was silent for some time after that. Then- "I'm glad you still here to make swords with me,"_

_Fíli closed his eyes for a moment, then pulled his son down to hug him._

"_Me too, mizimith. Me too," he murmured as he walked through the door of his family's apartment._

_Little Dís was sitting by the fireplace playing with dolls and Finn's toy soldiers. When Finn saw this he squealed in protest and wriggled down to rescue his possessions. _

"_Hi, Uncle Fíli!" she said sweetly as Finn tried in vain to wrestle his wooden troll back. _

"_Hullo Dís. Are you here with your mother?" Fíli asked._

"_Uh-huh. She's with Auntie Héndra out there. They're planning the feast tonight," she said, before turning back to her attacker. "Look Finn, Mr. Bofur made me a little box for my doll clothes."_

_Finn stopped struggling long enough to look, and Fíli strolled into the den. Too late he noticed Kíli sitting at the table, frantically making a 'Flee!' motion. His poor brother was caught between their wives who were drawing up a complicated battle plan for the event that night._

"_We'll set the delegates from the Iron Hills here on the far table, alongside the visiting nobles from the Blue Mountains. We'll keep the leaders from the trading parties on this side of the table, opposite the most talkative council members, so that they'll annoy each other with their sales pitches and complaints and not the other guests. And we'll leave this table empty for any latecomers since the weather's been quite bad," Ida declared, marking out various positions on her map of the feasting hall._

"_Are you sure that's quite wise?" asked Héndra thoughtfully. "The council members might make a complaint,"_

"_They'll be sure to find something to complain about in any case, and here it will actually serve a purpose,"_

"_Very true. But have you considered- ah, Fíli. We were just going to ask your advice for something. Do you think the musicians ought to come in before the third course is served or afterwards?"_ _Héndra asked him._

_Fíli had absolutely no opinion on the subject whatsoever. "Whatever you think is best, my love."_

_Ida snorted. "That's exactly what your brother's been saying. You're both equally useless for planning events."_

"_Hey!" protested Kíli "I suggested we just send everyone home and have a pleasant party all on our own. I think you should have considered that idea more carefully."_

_Fíli missed Ida's response to that comment. Finn was pulling at his sleeve._

"_Can my come to the feast tonight? Please?"_

"_Of course, Finn. We always let you-"_

"_No, can my stay up with everybody? You won't send me to bed when the music starts?"_

_Fíli considered it. "Alright then, if you can work in the forge I suppose you can stay up at feasts. But you'd better have a nap this afternoon or you'll end up falling asleep."_

"_Thank you, Adad! I won't fall asleep!" promised Finn, and the little dwarf gleefully ran off to brag to his cousin about his good fortune._

_..._

_That night, Fíli carefully adjusted Finn at his place at the table. The boy's head nodded forward again and he almost slid off his chair. Fíli gave up and pulled his sleeping son onto his lap. Thorin watched with amusement from his place at the head of the table._

"_Hard day of playing then?" The king asked his nephew with a smile._

"_No, just his first day in the forge," answered Fíli. "We were crafting a small sword together."_

"_Ah," said Thorin, reaching for his goblet. "I hope it went well, and he didn't nearly burn the building down as you did on your first day."_

"_I didn't nearly burn the- wait, did I?" said Fíli, trying to recall._

"_Not quite, but nearly. As did your brother after you," said Thorin with a deep chuckle._

"_What did I do?" asked Kíli, suddenly strolling up and throwing himself into his chair._

"_Where did you disappear to just now?" asked Fíli, ignoring the question. Kíli rolled his eyes._

"_Dís. She tried slipping into the banquet hall. Again. She's not very happy at all about Finn being allowed to stay up. Not the he's taking advantage of it very much," said Kíli with a grin, nodding at the dozing boy. _

"_There's nothing shameful about being tired after hard work," Thorin declared. "I'm glad you're training him well, Fíli."_

"_Just following in your excellent example, Uncle," said Fíli. _

"_No, you are much more than that. You have both made me proud," Thorin said, while gracing his nephews with a smile that become much more common in recent years._

_Finn, who wasn't quite asleep after all, heartily agreed with that. _

"Well, I think that's the last of them!" declared Frodo, sifting the last scoop of dirt. "I've had enough of potatoes to last me a lifetime! Or at least until Bilbo cooks them for dinner next." he amended.

Both hobbit and dwarf were covered from head to toe in dirt. Finn's golden hair was now more of a dull brown, and Frodo's eyes shone out like stars from his dirt streaked face.

They quickly piled the potatoes into the basket the farmer had left for them, and both grabbed a handle and made their way to the farmyard. The sun was just starting to set, and already it was growing colder.

Dís and Taurion were both delighted to see them, once they got over the initial shock of their grimy appearances.

"Farmer Hodgkin said we could be finished picking apples when you were done with the potatoes," said Dís, sliding down from her tree. "But really Finn, you should see yourself! Your mother would be horrified."

"Then it's just as well she isn't here," said Finn, trying to dust some of the worse dirt off his coat. "Now can we just leave and go back to Bag End?"

"You're not going anywhere yet, youngsters," said Hodgkin, briskly trotting into the orchard. He smiled craftily when they groaned as one. "Not going anywhere that is, without a small thank you. You all worked hard today, and I'm impressed you stuck to it and didn't try to run off. You can keep the bruised apples, and the mushrooms too, if you're wanting them."

"Yes please, Mr. Hodgkin," said Frodo, his delight at the last statement shining through his weariness.

"Ah, so you have manners now after all," said the farmer with a tinge of amusement.

A fierce gust of wind suddenly blew through the trees and sent both Taurion and Frodo shivering.

"Now I'm sure you'll be wanting to get home and warm. And you two could do with a wash."

And with that, Farmer Hodgkin finally handed over the apples and mushrooms that had caused so much fuss in the first place. The children bade him a respectful farewell and set off at a brisk pace back to Bag End.

"Bilbo's going to be terribly worried," said Frodo, looking up at the darkening sky. "We should have been back hours ago,"

By the time they reached Bagshot Row the wind was wretchedly cold. Bilbo met them halfway down the lane with a warm coat on and a lantern in hand. The hobbit was too relieved find them so easily to be angry at that moment, and he hurried them inside in front of the fire.

"Now what exactly happened out-" Bilbo abruptly cut off as he got his first good look at Frodo and Finn.

"Do I even want to know?" he said as he sat down in his chair wearily.

Frodo felt more guilty than ever. "I'm terribly sorry Uncle. It was all my idea. We… we went on a vegetable raid."

Bilbo stared at him disbelief for a moment. Then he laughed for a moment and ran his hand over his eyes. "I don't believe this… your guests are in the Hobbiton for less than two days, and the first thing you do is take them _vegetable raiding._ You realize they're going to go home and tell every dwarf they meet about it? All the Company will hear and think I'm really am raising you to be a professional burglar!"

"We won't tell anyone, we promise!" declared Taurion.

"Besides, we're just as guilty. We choose to go with him," Dís added.

"And we brought mushrooms!" finished Finn, handing Bilbo the sacks.

"Really? Mushrooms?" said Bilbo, looking slightly less cross. He examined the contents of both bags. "And caramel apples too?"

"Caramel apples?" all four exclaimed.

Bilbo pulled out a sugar coated apple sprinkled with nuts.

"Well. That was nice of Mrs. Hodgkin," Frodo said after a moment.

His uncle shook his head. "I'm quite lost. Why don't you all tell me about it at dinner?"

Frodo and the dwarflings eagerly agreed. "But bathes first!" Bilbo ordered.

...

"-And they spent so much time arguing that the sun's first light crept over the trees, and _poof_! They were all turned to stone!" Bilbo sat back in chair and regarded his captivated audience.

"So… you're saying that you and the entire company were almost eaten by mountain trolls because my father and Uncle Fíli weren't watching the ponies?" said Dís incredulously.

"Well, I hadn't thought about it that way before, but you're quite right," said Bilbo after a moment, taking a fill from his pipe.

"That's not the way they tell the story," said Finn uncertainly.

"Well of course they would leave that out. I bet they said they saw a light in the woods or something equally ridiculous," snorted Bilbo.

Everyone was gathered around the fireplace in the den, the same fireplace Thorin had stood in front of and began singing the _Misty Mountains Cold _song all those years ago, Bilbo had told them. The older hobbit was comfortable settled in his armchair, while the rest were nestled in a heap of blankets by the fire, drinking cider and roasting hazelnuts. And eating their caramel apples, of course.

"Tell another story about Adad!" begged Taurion.

"Another story about Kíli…" mused Bilbo. "Hmmm… Ah! I have just the thing. Far under the Misty Mountains, in the caves of the Goblin King, the company was being pursued by hundreds of bloodthirsty goblins…"

The dwarflings and Frodo snuggled deeper into their blankets, comforted by the known ending of the story.

"-But Kíli found himself at the head of the charge along the walkways, and a monstrous goblin archer threw itself around the corner and fired an arrow straight at his chest!"

Taurion's mouth dropped while the others leaned closer without meaning to.

"But Kíli instinctively brought his sword up, and the arrow was deflected and buried itself in another goblin! A second archer fired, and he deflected that arrow as well! Thus your father's life was saved, and the game of badminton invented at the same time! "

The end of this story met even more disbelief than the last one.

"I do believe you made that up," said Finn after a moment's thought.

"Nonsense! He told me about it himself. Besides, all good stories deserve embellishment, as the wizard Gandalf says. Now would anyone like more cider and nuts?"

There was a chorus of approval, and Dís started gathering up the mugs. Finn transferred Taurion to Frodo's lap before helping her and following Bilbo into the kitchen.

The two sat in companionable silence for a while, before Frodo caught a slight sniff.

"Are you all right, Tauri?" he asked.

Taurion sniffed again before rubbing his face with his hands.

"I miss my Ama," he whispered.

Frodo hugged the little dwarf closer and began to rock him back and forth.

"I miss mine too," he said after a few moments. "But you'll see you Ama again soon, don't worry. She's waiting for you back in the Mountain."

"Is your Ama waiting for you?" asked Taurion.

"I hope she is," said Frodo. "I hope so,"

The hobbit continued rocking the little dwarf by the fire, and soon both were asleep. Bilbo came in with the mugs of cider a few moments later and saw the most endearing sight he had ever laid eyes upon. Everyone slept by the fire that night.

**Well, that's my longest chapter yet! I'm actually quite pleased with this one. Never mind I sacrificed almost all of my waking hours today to this writing this. I started writing when it was dark and now it's dark again. Homeschooling = awesome.**

**But I digress. Please let me know what you think and if you enjoyed it. Was there anything that stood out to you? I slipped a few details in there that only hardcore Hobbit fans would pick up on, so let me know if you noticed. Thanks for reading! **


	5. Chapter 5 - The Perils of Snow

_Some months later..._

Completely out of nowhere, a flying missile screamed through the air and smacked Bilbo Baggins in the face. Stumbling backwards while chocking on snow, he frantically wiped the bits of ice out of his eyes and spun around to try and catch a glimpse of his assailant.

"Frodo Baggins!" he hollered. "If you throw _one_ more snowball in my face, you'll going to be awfully-" At this point his tirade was rudely interrupted by another flying snowball that collided with his shoulder, though with significantly less force than the first. He could trace its starting point to a spot just a few feet away, where the figure of a small dwarf was crouching behind a bush that would have provided better cover if it had not lost all of its leaves months ago.

Smiling to himself, he decided to take vengeance on the much closer target. He crouched down, carefully forming a densely packed snowball before straightening up again, and pretended to look about searchingly.

"Now, where do you think that could have come from? They all seem to be in hiding..." Bilbo said, pretending to talk to himself and look around for his nephew and the other dwarflings. He took a few apparently aimless steps in the direction of the bush. The small figure seemed to wriggle in barely contained excitement as Bilbo came closer. He couldn't help but grin as he prepared to dart forward and turn the tables on the would-be ambusher.

The dwarf suddenly burst out from his hiding place and threw himself forward, but not at Bilbo. The hobbit gasped with surprise and stumbled back slightly as Taurion collided with Frodo, who had apparently been sneaking up on his aged uncle once again. The two tumbled over in the snow together several times before coming to a stop with the dwarfling on top.

"I've got you!" Taurion announced triumphantly, pinning Frodo's shoulders down. "See Mr. Bilbo? Frodo was going to get you again with a snowball. But I stopped him!"

"Aww, come on Taurion, why'd you have to spoil that?" said Frodo, grinning up at his attacker. "It would have done Uncle good to have a bit of excitement. He needs some livening up."

"Excitement, maybe. A heart attack? No thank you! I wonder why I agreed to come out with you troublemakers at all," said Bilbo rather grumpily, picking up his hat that had fallen to the ground and dusting the snow off.

"Because this is the first time we've had a good snowfall in three years! You wouldn't want to have missed that," Frodo reminded him, before trying to dislodge Taurion who was still sitting on his chest. The little dwarf only grinned and tightened his grip.

"You haven't had snow in three _years_?" he said disbelievingly, bouncing upwards slightly as Frodo tried in vain to shove him off.

"Uh-huh," grunted the hobbit, straining considerably, but the dwarf might as well have been solid stone for all the amount he moved. Frodo gave up and hollered, "Dís! Help! Your little brother's squashing me!"

"Do you hear that? Frodo's been captured. That means we win!" Finn called out, poking his head over the wall of the snowfort at the other end of the yard. He got a snowball in the face for his trouble, and Dís lightly ran across the yard and nimbly tackled her younger brother, allowing Frodo to escape.

Bilbo stood back for a moment, grateful for the brief rest, and watched the dwarflings and hobbit wage a fierce battle for the dominion of the back garden. It was wonderful to see everyone getting along so well after all this time. Considering the natural differences between their races, he was surprised there hadn't been any major fallouts. Even his neighbours had made less of a fuss about the affair than he had expected. To be sure, there had been the inevitable probing questions and gossiping for the first while. But after Bilbo had explained several times that he was merely looking after them for a close friend for a few months, and the dwarflings appeared to be reasonably well behaved, so far as they hadn't been seen murdering anyone or poisoning any wells, most people had in time come to accept them as temporary residents of Hobbiton.

"Hah! I claim this fort in the name of Durin, and may it forever stand against all lesser invaders!" Finn announced triumphantly, standing behind the wall of the fort constructed along the opposite edge of the yard. Frodo looked up from his hurried snowball making and Dís stopped dragging Taurion to the snow 'prison' and both proceed to charge the fort with passionate if not exactly intimidating war cries. Finn merely grinned before ducking down to escape their barrage of fire.

"Come on, Finn!" Taurion shouted as he ran to his cousin's assistance. "_Maeta ti_!" He suddenly halted his headlong charge and skidded to an abrupt stop in front of Bilbo.

"That is right?" he asked the hobbit worriedly. "_Maeta ti_? Fight them?"

"Of course it is, my boy. You have an excellent memory," said Bilbo reassuringly. The small dwarf offered him a winning smile before throwing himself back into fight with gusto.

Huh, teaching a dwarf elvish. That was certainly something Bilbo had never dreamed of doing in all of his days. But when Taurion had politely asked if he could listen in after Bilbo had finished giving Frodo his lesson about a month ago, he hadn't seen any reason why not. He might have feared the wrath of other dwarven parents, but if Kíli was going to give his son an elvish first name, he could hardly object to a few afternoon lessons.

Alright, perhaps it had been a bit more than a few. Things had settled into quite a comfortable routine at Bag End. The mornings were spent with breakfasts, the few chores Bilbo had assigned to keep them from becoming completely undisciplined, and plenty of playing outside. The afternoon was followed by more time outside, larger meals, and finally lesson work. He hadn't exactly planned that at first, but rather the children had ordered their day that way themselves. It was quite interesting to see what they naturally applied themselves to. Taurion loved learning the elvish language, while Finn had been more interested in perusing Bilbo's entire library. He had finally announced one morning there wasn't a single book about dwarves that he could find. Bilbo had hurriedly tried to explain that books on dwarven culture were exceedingly rare and hard to find, as the most linguistically talented race in Middle Earth, the elves, hadn't been very interested in writing about them, except to complain of some fault or perceived wrong-doing.

But Finn wasn't criticizing his book collection, he was merely making a general statement of facts. The next afternoon he sat down with Frodo and a blank copybook and the two proceeded to begin to write their own book on the tales of the dwarves. They had spent countless hours on it, and already a considerable number of pages had been filled with Frodo's neat handwriting detailing the various exploits and adventures of dwarven heroes, any that Finn could remember.

It was quite remarkable, really. And Dís, though she always listened attentively to whatever lesson was being taught, herself preferred exploring the fascinating world of hobbit culinary writings. Dusty old cookbooks that had been handed down for generations which Bilbo hadn't touched in years, found new life in her hands. It had become her habit to make one meal a day, afternoon tea if she was making a sweet dessert or supper if it was a little more substantial.

Bilbo had felt quite bad about it and asked if she wouldn't prefer to be reading instead, as guests shouldn't have to cook. How _did_ she learn to cook for that matter? Dís had explained it was her mother's custom to cook her family dinner two nights a week, princess or not, and eat those meals in their private apartments, while they normally ate for the most part in the noble dining hall. Her mother had taught her to cook while preparing those meals, and it seemed a fine tradition.

And now all that thinking about food was making him quite peckish. Time to get started on luncheon.

"I think I shall go in now. Are the rest of you cold yet?" he called out.

"No!" was the overwhelming cry, and Bilbo shrugged his shoulders in disbelief as he rubbed his freezing hands together, and tried to remember a time when he had been so thoughtless as he made his way inside.

Hearing the round door of the hobbit hole shut with a bang, Finn turned back to the others.

"Now for our live re-enactment of the thunderbattle in the Misty Mountains!" he announced. His cousins and the hobbit heartily approved, and they eagerly set to work crafting massive snow 'boulders' to throw at each other.

They had only been at it five minutes when little Sam Gamgee from down the row tottered into the garden, so thoroughly wrapped up against the cold he could barely walk, followed by his older siblings Daisy and Halfred.

"Hullo Halfred, Daisy, and Sam!" Frodo called. "Care to join us? We're acting out a stone giant battle."

"Good day, Mr. Frodo," said Halfred, the eldest. "We were just coming to ask you the same question. Only we're goin' sledding up by the Old Burrows. Your friends are welcome of course."

At this the young dwarves were most thoroughly delighted.

"Oh yes, let's!" cried Dís in delight. "Sledding's the best part of winter!" In fact it had been the very first thought of the dwarflings when they had looked out at snow covered Hobbiton the previous morning, only to realise the landscape, lacking mountains, wasn't exactly suitable for sledding.

"I don't know, we don't even have a sled," said Frodo dubiously.

"That's alright, we've got more than enough to go round," said Daisy, and sure enough, the Gamgees were tugging an impressive amount of improvised sledges behind them, from greased round barrel lids to modified firewood sleds.

"I'll ask Bilbo then!" said Frodo, running off to the front yard.

Five minutes later he had secured his uncle's permission, with the stipulation that "You all better be back in time for tea, or else you won't be let out again the rest of the week!", and the entire company of dwarf and hobbit children made their merry way along the snowy roads of Hobbiton to the hills of the Old Burrows.

...

"Look out below!" hollered Halfred as his sled, weighted with the extra bulk of both Finn and Frodo perched on the back, reached a terrific speed and tore down the hill at a truly impressive rate. It felt faster than a soaring dragon, particularly when they reached a bump at the bottom and both hobbits and dwarf flew off their ride. Finn had only the briefest of moments to appreciate the weightlessness of flight before slamming back down to the hard-packed snow.

"You all right there?" asked Halfred with a laugh as he sat up. "Sorry about the bump. Hard to see in this light."

Finn staggered to his feet with an effort and took a shaky breath of the ice-cold air. "Never been better. Race you to the top of the hill!"

And with that he got a head start up the hillside with his friends in hot pursuit, though it was clear the Halfred, ladened down with the weight of the sled, wasn't going to catch up. Finn turned back briefly to see if he should help, and was almost run down by Dís and Daisy as they flew down the hill, both shrieking merrily.

Then Frodo darted past him, grinning madly.

"Hi! No fair!" cried Finn as he resumed the race up the hill. Both boys eventually collapsed at the top, most thoroughly out of breath, the race too close to determine a winner.

"I don't- don't why I'm so tired. These hills hardly even deserve the name," panted Finn, looking up at the open gray sky. "Back in Erebor, we used to go treking through the snow on hunting parties all the time. And aren't your feet cold?" he added suddenly.

"Finn, I already told you, hobbit feet don't get cold in the snow," said Frodo patiently.

"But your _bare_ skin is completely covered in freezing-"

"Finn? I can't find my mitten. It blew away!" Taurion interrupted from some feet away.

"I think I see a red glove over there Tauri," Frodo said, pointing down the other side of the hill. "You were saying, Finn?"

"But how can they not be cold when they've got frost on them? Mine are freezing and I've wearing fur-lined leather-"

"That was so much fun!" gasped Dís, reaching the top of the hill. "We almost hit the fence down there, didn't we Daisy? But at the last second the sled tipped over and we rolled over half a dozen times and-"

"I got snow down my neck!" said little Sam crossly.

"There dear, you're all right. I'll get it out," said Daisy, crouching down beside her brother.

"Who's ready for another run?" Halfred called out, and the whole pattern started over again. Hobbiton was nothing if not unexpected, thought Finn as he flew down the hill spinning backwards on his barrel top, but he had grown quite comfortable in it all the same.

"The wind's starting to pick up a bit! Perhaps that's enough for today..." Halfred pointed out about some time later.

"Not yet, please?" begged Sam, despite his shivering.

But sure enough, the air seemed to drop from bearably chilly to uncomfortably freezing at Halfred's words, and the delicate snowflakes that had started falling a while back increased in size.

"I think you're right," agreed Frodo, as the wind began to whip his scarf across his face. "Let's start off for home. I'm sure Uncle Bilbo will have hot tea and cookies waiting for us. Why don't you Gamgees join us? I'm sure he won't mind."

The thought of hot drinks and delicious cookies quite cheered everyone up, and they set to work shaking the snow off the sleds and stacking them on top of each other to be dragged back.

Presently Dís asked, "Has anyone seen Taurion?"

Everyone looked about in a panic, and surely enough the smallest dwarf was nowhere to be seen.

"He was going after his mitten last time I saw him, I think..." said Finn uncertainly.

"Well don't just stand there! Help me find him!" Dís exclaimed, worry making her voice sharper than she intended.

The children spread out over the hill, shouting his name and looking for any tracks. The sky continued to darken as the snow came down thicker than ever. Presently it became hard to see each other from any distance, let alone make sense of the jumble of tracks where they had been sledding.

_Why didn't I help him, how could I have been so thick-headed? _Finn berated himself as he checked under the bushes growing down the opposite side of the hill, which was much more overgrown. He said he was looking for his mitten, wouldn't he have come straight back after he had found it? That means he would probably be lost on the other side of the hill where most of the others were searching.

He paused for a moment to slip his gloves off his hands and rub his fingers together. By the Mountain it really was getting cold! Then he realised that however chilled he was, Taurion would undoubtedly be much colder if he was lying hurt somewhere, and Finn continued searching with increased agitation.

Blast the snow clouds and the early darkness! Soon he wouldn't even be able to pick out the colour of Taurion's clothes in this light. Perhaps he'd better go back, and send someone to fetch Bilbo with a lantern. That seemed like a wise course of action.

Wait... were those footprints in the snow? Finn practically threw himself towards them to look more closely. They were small with the clear markings of a boot sole, which meant they couldn't have been a hobbit or animal. Taurion might be just ahead. Finn followed the tracks, straining his eyes in the darkness, filled with the fervent hope of finding his little cousin safe and well at the end.

Through the deepening gloom he could just see a dark shape lying in the middle of a small snow covered clearing.

"Taurion! _Tauri_!" Finn cried, quickening his steps to a run. He felt sick with anxiety as he dashed forward, only to trip on something and fall down in a deep, inky blackness. His arm lashed out beneath him, and then there was a horrible _crunch_ in his wrist, and for a long time after that he knew no more.

_Meanwhile in the heart of Erebor..._

Kíli looked out over the immense gate of the Lonely Mountain, the forefront of the kingdom's power, where hundreds of prosperous dwarves made their way to and fro on their business and well disciplined guards paced bellow on the battlements, and was not happy.

He sighed again to himself and was sorely tempted to slouch against the stone pillar, but decided that really would be childish, and instead settled for crossing his arms discontently and staring broodingly out towards the west.

"Trying to look like your uncle again, dear?" said Ida teasingly, coming out from their chambers onto the balcony.

Kíli looked at her in disbelief. "I never do that!" he protested indignantly, uncrossing his arms quickly.

"Of course not. It's a complete coincidence the nephew of the King under the Mountain bears a startling resemblance to his uncle when he broods on matters of high importance."

"I'm not brooding. I'm just... worrying,"

"And that's supposed to be better?"

"I think I'm entitled to worry when my son and daughter are immeasurable leagues away!" Kíli snapped.

Ida didn't reply. She simply came up beside her husband and put her arms around him, and together they stared out towards the west, the Shire being in that general direction.

"Sorry," Kíli amended after a moment.

"You think I don't worry? All the nights I've stayed awake, the meals I've had to choke through, the tears I've kept back, driven by an overwhelming sense of _worry_? I've only been able to hold myself firm Kíli, because I know they're safer there." Ida said in a voice that lacked her usual assurance.

Kíli's hand curled into a fist at the last statement. "If I ever catch the false-bearded traitors who dared to try and harm you-"

"Hush Kíli, the Royal Guards are looking into it. I'm sure they'll catch the assassin soon. And the council ruling will be next week, if they don't manage to get it delayed with yet another 'recently discovered ancient edict', and this whole affair will wind down." Ida said reassuringly, running her hand through Kíli's wild dark hair that he'd only begun to take the time to braid decently in recent years.

Kíli gave up resisting and slouched on the balcony, arm firmly tucked around Ida. She really was perfect, he reflected, in helping him to be more reasonable without nagging, and had fondness for playful goading that matched his own. Though he was certain no one could ever imagined it working out half so well, recalling the circumstances that led to their tumultuous courtship. Even Fíli had sworn his brother was doomed to be single the rest of his life.

"What are you smiling about?" Ida asked, looking up at him with lively eyes.

"You," he said simply, and then kissed her quite passionately.

"Kíli! You'll mess my hair, I've got a dinner to attend tonight... and we're out in plain sight on the balcony!" she protested after a few moments.

Kíli could have cared less about the gawking dwarves below looking up on the royal couple, but for the moment he respected his wife's wishes.

"Now I came to tell you your presence is required _immediately_ by the second council of elders, so mind you dawdle on the way. I just spent the last three hours listening to their 'concerns and misgivings' on the current state of affairs, particularly over the fact we haven't entrusted them with the exact location of our children," said Ida with exasperation, sitting down on a bench and rubbing her eyes.

"And that's the way it will stay. Now you rest here, and I'll go see to the self important second council. And I'll see a maid comes to feed the fire and bring you a hot drink." Kíli declared.

Ida nodded gratefully and slipped her hands again into the fur muff she had been carrying.

"Do you think it's cold in the Shire yet? Snowing even?" she asked.

"Snowing? Hardly. Bilbo told me once they rarely ever receive snow along that way, and even then it doesn't get very cold."

Ida nodded absently, now taking her turn to look out into the west. Kíli rested his hand around her once more and said, "I'm sure they're all perfectly fine out there and enjoying themselves. The Shire's the safest land that I know of."

...

"What do you mean, _you don't know where Finn is_? Are you saying he's been lost now too?" Dís practically shrieked.

Frodo nodded his head miserably. Things were getting worse by the minute. The snow was coming down at a dreadful rate, everyone was getting dangerously cold, and the darkness was almost complete. And now Finn was missing in addition to Taurion.

Dís took a shuddering breath and calmed herself. She had to be strong, and not panic. There was always a way out, her father told her. Even if that way happened to be injurious and painful, he often added with a grimace.

"Halstead and Daisy? Can you go back and get Mr. Bilbo, please? Make sure they bring lanterns. And take Sam with you." Dís said, trying to regain some control of the disastrous situation.

The smallest hobbit hadn't made so much a word of complaint in the cold, though he was now shivering violently.

"Don't want... go," he said stubbornly, inching closer to Frodo.

"It's alright, Sam. The snow's too deep for you now, you're going to be buried over your head before long. Then we'll have search for you too. Go with Halfred and Daisy now." Frodo said gently.

Sam sighed in defeat and allowed himself to be scooped up by Halfred. "Are you sure you don't want one of us staying with you? What if you get lost too?" the older boy said anxiously.

"We'll be fine, we'll stay together and wait here for the lanterns or until Finn or Taurion find their way back to this spot." said Dís with a certainty she did not feel.

"If you say so. We'll be back with Mr. Bilbo and my gaffer soon!" promised Halfred, and he set off with his sister at a brisk trot to Bagshot Row.

Frodo and Dís stood there in silence on the empty hill for some moments. Somewhere out there in the snowy darkness Finn and Taurion were hidden, quite possibly hurt or even- but that thought could not even be considered yet. Nothing was going to happen to her innocent baby brother that she had promised to protect. Soon the grown-ups would come with lights and the missing dwarflings were sure to be found.

"I do believe my feet are starting to get cold," said Frodo.

**Well, how was that? Blame the weather, not me for the poor dwarflings' plight. I've got two bulky sweaters on and it was snowing just a while ago. **

**Now, I should like it to be noted that this is the first time a story of mine has received over 10 reviews and 1000 views. This calls for a celebration! Roll out the ale barrels and let the feasting commence! (Never mind that this is only my second story, and the first was a one-shot)**

**Wait a second... (Pulls out calculator. Tapp tapp tapp). That also means that... a lot less than 1% of readers are reviewing (cue crickets chirping in the backround). Come on guys, you can do better than that. Be one of those 1%. It only takes 30 seconds to encourage an author to write the next chapter.**

**Which brings me to my readers who have left more than one review. A personal thank you to the wonderful Hobbsy3, Cindy Alazea, and Celebrisilweth! You three are amazing, and I love getting your take on each chapter! Thank you all so much. And sorry for writing such a huge author's note, I'll shut up now :)**


	6. Chapter 6 - Don't Worry

"_In the hill hill hill_

_That I call my home_

_I built my hall of carven stone_

_Now lass don't cry I'll be here till I die_

_So come right through and join me!_

_In the hill hill hill_

_That I call my home_

_I dug my mine of-_"

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep."

The singing stopped abruptly, and a brief silence lingered in the hole. Then-

"That's not very nice, Finn,"

Wait a moment, what? Finn sat up abruptly and tried to get his thoughts straightened out, but the action only brought on a blinding headache that sent stabs of pain shooting through his skull. He then tried to raise his hand to brush off snow that had caked onto his face, but that proved even more painful. An involuntary hiss escaped him as he tried to find some comfortable position, before he realised just lying still seemed a very good idea. He stared out into the darkness surrounding him, unable to see a single thing. Had he gone blind now to boot?

"Taurion? Are you there, or did I just dream I heard you singing _Home under Hill_?"

"I'm here," said Taurion, huddling up beside him. "I'm glad you're awake now, Finn. It was very scary being down here all by myself."

"Where _is _here?" said Finn dazedly, still trying to grasp what had happened earlier. He remembered falling, and hitting his wrist- ah, that was why it hurt so much. He tried to get a better look at it, but the darkness was all but absolute.

"A hole," said Taurion helpfully.

Well, that explained everything. Finn was about to issue a sharp retort when he remembered his cousin was still very young and it was hard to figure out where you were when you couldn't see a blasted thing.

"It's very big. The wind blew my mitten all the way out here, and I didn't see it and fell down, and then you didn't see it and fell down after me. But you landed on your head and fell asleep, so I pulled you away from the hole so the snow wouldn't fall on you,"

Finn carefully raised his good arm, which still sent faint needles of pain to the other, and sure enough he could brush the earthy roof of the tunnel with his fingertips.

"So we have some shelter then?" he said.

"Uh-huh," said Taurion serenely. He was now nestled in a tight ball against Finn, his head resting on the other's shoulder, and already some of the small dwarf's heat was spilling over onto him. Freezing to death or being buried alive clearly wasn't a concern of Taurion's.

"Do you have any food, Finn? I'm hungry."

"What, in my pocket?"

"Yes. Most of the time you have nuts or raisins somewhere."

"Tauri! I don't believe this! _You're _the one who's been eating them? All these years I've been trying to figure out how they've been falling out!"

"So you do have food?"

"No! Well, maybe. But we need to save it for later."

"Oh… alright then. Goodnight."

And in a few short minutes, he was asleep, leaving Finn alone to worry in the dark. Buried alone underneath the snow, in an utterly dark and unexplored tunnel with a painfully throbbing wrist that was going to make it impossible to sleep. He wondered what the others were doing. Had they given up in the snowstorm and gone home? Not that anyone would be able to find the entrance to the hole at night without falling in too. Resigning himself to a long and uncomfortable wait, Finn crossed his legs and half shut his eyes, and tried to pretend he was lying on the bearskin rug by the fireplace in his toasty bedchamber far away with a cup of hot cider in hand. It didn't help.

…

Bilbo tripped over yet another concealed root or rock buried under the snow and fell face forward, barely catching himself before he got a mouth full of snow and the lantern went out. Staggering back to his feet, he grimly pressed onwards; looking under every bush he came across with the dim glow of the light. I really am getting too old for this, he thought tiredly.

"Look after dwarflings, Kíli said. They're all calm and well-behaved children, he said. Never mind a hobbit who's nearly a hundred is entitled to a bit of peace and quiet. He's the company burglar who repeatedly saved our sorry backsides and can obviously handle anything…"

"What was that Mr. Bilbo?" Dís called out, turning back to look at him, her anxious face illuminated by the glow of her lantern.

"What? Oh, nothing my dear. Have you seen anything?"

"Not even a footprint. But the snow's falling so fast, it might have filled any tracks in," she said despairingly.

Bilbo's heart went out to the worried girl, who was still so young. First her brother, now her cousin had disappeared into the snow, and he could see she was blaming herself for both of them.

"Dís, I think it would be best if you-"

"_Please _don't tell me to go back, Mr. Baggins. I have to if you order me, but please listen to me and let me stay. I'm honestly not cold-"

Bilbo couldn't help but snort at that last outrageous statement and she hurried to correct herself.

"-well, not very cold, and it will be much worse to stay inside and worry myself sick then to stay out here in the snow and search for them! Besides, dwarves don't mind the cold. We're built for it."

Bilbo quite agreed with the last two points, as much as he didn't like them being used against him. "Very well, Dís. But you must go back and warm up at some point. We can't have you losing all of your fingers and toes from frostbite after we find your brother and cousin safe."

Dís nodded in agreement and continued onwards, scanning the snow and undergrowth with her lantern light.

Bilbo earnestly hoped his last comment was true, as that positive outcome was look less and less likely as time ticked by. Hamfast Gamgee and his sons, along with a few other kinder neighbours had been helping with the search for the last few hours and so far they had turned up nothing. Not a footprint or missing mitten had been found. It was as if the dwarflings had vanished from the face of Middle-Earth.

But no doubt in the morning things would be clearer. They would have light, and perhaps the snow would stop. He just hoped Finn and Taurion could wait until then. If they were hurt or unconscious somewhere, which seemed more than likely at this point given the fact they hadn't wandered into any of the searchers, they wouldn't last long exposed to the blood chilling wind and plunging temperatures. The thought made him sick to consider, and he couldn't begin to imagine explaining this tragedy on Kíli's return.

Bilbo straightened his tired shoulders and continued after the now-distant light of Dís's lantern, hoping with every step he'd soon find his young charges safe and well.

…

"Umm… is he a dwarf?"

"Yes."

"Umm…. does he have a beard?"

"What do you think?"

"…Yes?"

"Yes."

"Umm…. does he have children?"

"No."

"Does he fight with an axe?"

"No."

"Is he crazy?"

"Umm, no."

There was silence for a moment.

"Does he live near us in the Mountain?"

"Yes."

"Is his beard white?"

"Yes."

"Is he one of the Company?"

Finn groaned and gave the game up as lost. But Taurion would not back down.

"Is he? Is?" he prodded eagerly.

"Yes."

"Mr. Balin!" Taurion declared triumphantly.

"Yes. Good job, you win again."

"Now it's you turn."

"_No_, Taurion. Not again, that was the 11th round of Guess Who. Pick something else."

"Can I teach you some Elvish words?"

"No. My head hurts already."

"Then will you tell me a story?"

Finn groaned again and fell back against the tunnel wall. His little cousin had been talking continuously since he woken up from his short sleep some time ago.

"Well, you don't have to if you don't want to," Taurion said, somewhat offended. He abandoned his spot beside Finn and crawled down the tunnel towards the entrance to the hole. Finn simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the few moments of quiet. His wrist was throbbing really, really dreadfully now, no doubt because of the cold. He was dwarf, he knew he shouldn't let the pain bother him, but by that same token his bones shouldn't have broken in the first place, since they were stronger than that of other races.

"Finn? I think I see light outside!" Taurion said.

Really? That was worth investigating. Finn set his teeth and began inching his way towards the sound of his cousin's voice. Every movement caused him pain, so that by the time he reached Taurion's side he was panting slightly and sweating despite the frigid air.

"See? The sky's more blue now. I think it's stopped snowing," Taurion said happily.

The sky still looked pitch black to Finn, but then he hadn't seen what it looked like before. The only thing he was certain of was that it was warmer in the tunnel.

"I think you may be right. Now let's go back to our spot, and I'll tell you a story after all."

This delighted Taurion to no end, and he darted back to where they had been sitting before, Finn following behind much more slowly.

"Are you alright?" Taurion asked with concern, seeing the grimace Finn made as he slid down the wall to a sitting position.

"Just fine," Finn lied, trying to smile for his cousin's sake. Taurion smiled back a bit but didn't look like he entirely believed him.

"Now, what story did you want to hear?" Finn asked with forced cheerfulness, trying to distract both of them.

Taurion's brow furrowed comically as he considered the question with the upmost seriousness, his head resting on tightly clasped hands.

"Will you tell me about Adad, Uncle Fili and Great-Uncle Thorin in the big battle for Erebor?"

"Not again. _Everyone _knows that story."

"How 'bout how Adad and Mummy got married?"

"A love story, yuck. Maybe when you're older."

"You're being very picky Finn,"

"Yes, I know. Sorry. Just pick a nice easy one that's not long enough for a book and actually happened to me."

"Oh, a story about _you_."

Finn wondered momentarily if Taurion was mocking him, but decided his cousin was too young and sweet natured for that.

"How about the time Dís and Auntie Hédra tried to teach you to knit?"

Of course Taurion would pick that one over an account of a nice hunting trip or something. Resigning himself to his fate, Finn pulled Taurion closer against the cold and began that ever-so-fascinating tale, hoping it would at least put them both back to sleep.

…

"And so, after they finally picked themselves off the floor and got their breath back, your horrible sister and my mother stopped laughing and had the decency to untangle me. As soon as I was free I cast the evil knitting needles into the fireplace and swore never to humiliate myself so again. Then Mum got mad and I burned my finger getting them out."

Taurion burst out laughing- not that he had ever really stopped since the start of the story, and delightedly clapped his hands in appreciation of the ending.

"I love that one! I can't wait to tell it to Mr. Bilbo and Frodo when we get out!"

"You will do no such thing, little cousin."

"But-"

"Oh look, it's quite light out now. Let's go look at the entrance."

Momentarily distracted, Taurion leapt to his feet and hurried to the opening. Sure enough, a decidedly blue sky could now been straight upwards through the roof of the hole, which was about four feet beyond Finn's reach. He considered jumping upwards and trying to haul himself out, but quickly decided that would be ridiculous to try with only one useable arm. He looked around the empty hole which he could now actually see for anything to stand on.

"What sort of hole do you think this is?" he wondered aloud, touching the sides of the snowy walls. "It's too big for an animal den. It looks sort of like a caved-in mineshaft, but I don't think the Shire ever has had mines."

"Look Finn, it's wood!"

Taurion too had been brushing the sides of the wall, and in the better light they could now see the small tunnel they had been sitting it was actually braced with wood.

"So it is a kind of built tunnel…" suddenly Fin laughed and snapped his fingers. "Of course! Halfred said we were going sledding by the Old Burrows! This is a caved-in old hobbit hole!"

Taurion was very impressed with his smart older cousin for figuring this out and told him so. Finn grinned, suddenly feeling a lot more cheerful.

"Why thank you! Now let's see if we can use this wood to climb out."

Some time later, the boys had managed to pry several pieces of wood off the frame. The effort required caused Finn considerable discomfort, so afterwards he rested and directed Taurion how to make a kind of raised step with the logs and packed snow. The young dwarf had thrown himself into the task with a will, delighted to be such an important help.

They now stood back to admire their handiwork. Finn tested the step, which raised him almost a foot off the ground, and was pleased when it didn't crumble under his weight.

"Now Tauri, you're going to get up on my shoulders, and once I'm standing up you're going to use the snow wall to help you stand on my shoulders and try to climb out of here."

"But how are you going to get out?" worried Taurion.

"You're going to have to get help. I'm sure everyone's out there looking for us, and they just haven't found us yet because the hole's too hard to see. Now up you come, and please be careful so I don't hurt my wrist."

"Can we eat first? I'm even hungrier now."

"After. If we get out of here I'm sure Mr. Bilbo will gladly give us the contents of the entire pantry."

Taurion nodded his head seriously and Finn patted him on the back before kneeling down and gritting his teeth. This was going to hurt.

Taurion tried, he really did, but Finn had to resist crying out several times before his cousin was securely seated.

"Ready?" he grunted.

"Uh-huh," said Taurion uncertainly.

Finn took a deep breath before forcing himself to his feet, a very difficult task given that he only had one hand to steady himself and the other was screaming in protest with all the movement. Finally he was standing with his weight against the snowy wall, Taurion wavering slightly on his shoulders.

"Alright Tauri, now for the tricky part. I need you to stand up." Finn instructed with effort.

"But Finn, you'll fall!"

"I'm fine! Just hurry."

Taurion struggled to obey, pulling first one boot up then the other, and inch by inch he worked his way to a standing position. Finn jolted from side to side as he moved but remain upright.

"I'm up!" Taurion exclaimed finally.

"Good, Tauri! Now try and pull yourself out."

This proved a harder task than the first. The dwarfling reached out his small arms as far as they could stretch and struggled to find a grip, but the snow only crumbled beneath him as he tried in vain to pull himself up. Loose snow fell down onto Finn's face and melted there, adding to his misery.

"I- I think I've got it," Taurion puffed after several agonising moments. And with a final heave, the little dwarf lifted himself upwards- until the snow he was leaning on gave way and he fell backwards on top of Finn, who toppled over and fell heavily on his injured wrist.

Finn couldn't help but scream as the overwhelming agony lanced up his arm, and he involuntarily curled up and clutched his arm as the tears streamed down his face. Dimly he could hear Taurion sobbing in the background that he was sorry and he hadn't meant to fall and hurt him. But all Finn could think on was the wretched pain coursing through him, and was inexpressibly relieved when the darkness rushed up and swallowed him.

…

Taurion sat in the snow and sniffled a while before wiping his nose with his mitten. Darn red mitten, it was the reason they were in this whole in the first place. He was mad enough to bury it or to tear it into little pieces, but then his hand would be cold.

His stomach grumbled. Maybe since they hadn't climbed out of the hole Finn wouldn't mind if he ate something. His cousin was still lying where he'd fallen, though Taurion had managed to roll his face out of the snow and shove his scarf underneath his head. He moaned every so often and twitched his hurt arm, but didn't wake up. Maybe that was a good thing. Poor Finn had been awfully grumpy since they'd fallen down here. Hopefully someone would find them soon and they could go back to Bag End. He missed Dís. Maybe she had made some cookies while they were gone, and they could all go back and enjoy them.

The first ray of sunlight appeared overhead. It must be quite bright out there now, Taurion reasoned. He was surprised no one had found them. But then, he wouldn't have found the hole if he hadn't seen the red of his mitten.

Say, that gave him an idea. Taurion bounced off the ground and began to put his scheme into action. He started singing again, but softly so as to not wake Finn.

"_In the hill hill hill _

_That I call my home_

_I mined the gold to build my throne…"_

…

The sun was up, the day was clear, and there wasn't a breath of wind to cause a chill or stir up the freshly fallen snow. And Dís's little brother and cousin were nowhere to be found.

Exhausted beyond the point of endurance, she sat down heavily and brushed her tangled dark hair out of her eyes that treacherously threatened to fill and spill over with tears. Blinking angrily, she took a shuddering breath and forced herself to think. They wouldn't have run off, and she dismissed kidnapping as a ridiculous thought in the Shire. That meant they were somewhere here, and she had been clumsy enough to miss them.

"Dís!" called Bilbo, finally catching up with her. The old hobbit looked dreadful, she thought, tired beyond reckoning and clothes caked in snow. His graying hair was plastered to the sides of his head with perspiration, and he had apparently lost his hat sometime in the night.

"Dís, you told me you would go back to rest. I let you put me off all night, you were very convincing I admit, in you pleading and arguments, but now I really must insist you go back. You're exhausted, my girl. Look, even your tears are freezing on your cheeks."

Dís put a hand to her face and found he was right. "But I can't go back Mr. Bilbo. Finn and Taurion are still out there and I promised my father I would-"

"Do everything you could to protect them, is that right?" said Bilbo.

When she nodded miserably up at him, he put his hand on your shoulder and said, "Well, you've done that then. No one else has stayed out the whole night without going back. And we have the whole day of good weather to search for them. I'm sure if you just take an hour's rest back at the Gamgees' and have some hot food, you'll be in a much better state to search. Up now, there's a good girl."

Dís took the elderly hobbit's hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

"I'll be back soon," she promised, wiping her tears away. "I'll make up for taking a rest."

"I know you will. Now head back to the sledding hill and go to the Gamgees' from there."

She nodded obediently and began to make her weary way towards the sledding hill, over the ground they had searched three times already without finding anything. The other searchers had begun to mutter it wasn't natural for children to disappear into the blue like that, and it was just like the dwarves to be at the bottom of it. Dís had bitten her lip and refrained from shouting at them that they were talking about _her _brother and cousin who were missing and probably hurt.

Her chest tightened as she imagined her baby brother lost and alone by himself. Taurion was just so small and _different _than the other little dwarflings she knew, and she took her job of protecting him seriously. As for Fin… she would have a thing or two to say to him. What was he doing taking so long reappearing with her brother in hand? Her cousin was an indolent prince indeed.

But as she stumbled onwards, hardly conscious of putting one foot in front of the other through the snowy hillside, she realised her uncharitable feelings towards Finn were really just driven by an overwhelming sense of anxiety about him too. Finn was always ready to help in whatever she had planned, whether some amusing scheme in the Lonely Mountain or their aborted escape the first night they had spent in Hobbiton. And now that he had simply disappeared without a word of explanation, she felt slighted.

Well, that was terribly selfish. Clearly she didn't deserve such a loyal and kindly cousin. But whether she deserved it or not, she wanted more than anything in that moment to have them both back again. And as soon as she rested a bit as Mr. Bilbo had ordered, she was prepared to go out and search the rest of her life until she found them again if necessary.

Was that a flying red mitten there?

Nearly frantic with anticipation, she darted across the clearing between the bushes and barely managed to stop at the edge of a snowy gap. At the bottom of the hole stood Taurion, proudly waving his mitten on the point of a rod of sticks he had fastened together. He grinned up at Dís delightedly, along with Finn who was lounging against the back of the wall. Her mouth dropped open as she stood there, unable to believe she had actually found them.

"Hullo Dís. Did you miss me?" Taurion asked cheerily.

With a joyous shriek she heedlessly jumped down into the hole and threw her arms around him, and he was equally delighted. Finn inched forward and she embraced both of them together, only stopping when he grunted in in pain.

"Did you hurt yourself?" she asked anxiously.

"Just my wrist," Finn said. She gasped when she saw how swollen it was and shook her head disapprovingly.

"I'm so sorry Finn. We'll have someone look at it as soon as you get out. And how are you, Tauri? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. I didn't fall on my head like Finn," said Taurion. She laughed and hugged him again.

"I'm so relieved both of you are safe," she said.

"That's it?" exclaimed Finn in surprise. "No 'you're a cluthead Finn and I can't you were stupid enough to fall down a hole' or 'your broken wrist serves you right, you ninny'? You're being so nice it's rather scary."

"I'm just glad you're safe," said Dís truthfully. She felt completely content now, and suddenly very tired. She carefully leaned against Finn's good side, pulled Taurion close and shut her eyes. "Wake me when the searchers find us."

"Hey!" protested Finn. "How are they supposed to find us now? I can't _believe _you jumped down here!"

"Don't worry, Finn. I'm sure they'll find us."

"_Don't worry?" _Finn practically shrieked. "I've been stuck in this wretched hole all night with a broken wrist and you tell me _not to worry_!"

"Frodo was just coming down the hill ahead. He saw me jump down."

"Ah," said Finn, calming down slightly. "Alright then."

After several seconds he added "Well Tauri, I guess we can eat those nuts now."

Taurion turned and looked up at him with his biggest, most wide-eyed smile. "I already ate them, Finn." he said with delight.

The sound of two dwarflings shrieking with laughing at the expense of their poor cousin was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Bilbo Baggins had heard in his entire life as Frodo eagerly pulled him towards the snow hole. He looked down in inexpressible relief at their smiling faces, and thanked heaven that that yet another adventure had ended happily.

**I **_**think **_**I'm mostly happy with that. Yes, quite so. The characters all pulled through, and Taurion surprised me with coming up with that little ditty. Such a smart little dwarfling (pats him on the head while he looks up and smiles endearingly). **

**As I wind this story to a close, I'll try to get another chapter in before the holidays. Merry Christmas to everyone, and thank you for reviewing and simply reading!**


	7. Chapter 7 - The Reign of the King

**As a quick note I wanted you to be aware I have upgraded this story's rating to T due to unforeseen violence. Thrice-blasted plot twists that occur to me in the dead of night… **

"I believe that's checkmate," said Finn with satisfaction, moving his knight boldly into position.

"No, it isn't. I can still move here, or here, or even here. It's only checkmate if I can't move my king anywhere," Frodo pointed out.

"I know. I just like saying that," said Finn with a sheepish grin, lounging back onto his pillows. Frodo rolled his eyes good naturedly and held the board steady from his seat on the edge of the bedframe.

"Would you like some more muffins or tea?" Dís asked earnestly, coming into the bedroom with a full tray.

"I'm full, thank you. You've brought more than enough," Finn declined politely, pulling the covers up closer around himself.

Dís interpreted this to mean he was chilled to the bone and hurriedly piled on several more blankets that she had previously laid at the foot of the bed. "Are you cold? Do you want another hot water flask? Should I ask Bilbo to put more wood on the fire?"

"I'm fine Dís, honesty." Finn insisted "Why don't you see if Tauri wants anything?" The youngest dwarfling had gotten chilled while being exposed in the snow for so long and now had a dreadful cold.

As if on cue a remarkably loud sneeze echoed down the hallway, followed by the plaintive call, "Dís? Can you get me another handkerchief?"

Bilbo came into the room a moment later with a cup of tea in hand, barely managing to sidestep Dís who was eagerly rushing to do her little brother's bidding. He smiled at the scene of the young dwarf and hobbit playing chess in the cosy little bedroom.

"Still rushing about like a mother hen, is she?" he said, referring to Dís with a look of amusement.

"Yes. She's hardly given me a moment's peace since we got back," Finn complained, though truthfully he did not look as though he was minding the fussing one bit, tucked as he was under the ample blankets, well-propped up with pillows, and a tray of tea and delectables at his side.

Frodo leaned over to snitch a fresh-baked ginger cookie sprinkled with sugar. "Well, I hope you don't recover _too _quickly. I'd miss these," he said with a grin in between bites.

Bilbo tutted disapprovingly as he too helped himself to a cookie and dunked it in his tea. "A shame, Frodo, profiteering from your guest's discomfort. How's the arm doing today, Finn?"

"Much better thank you, Mr. Bilbo. It hardly aches at all now," answered Finn, shifting his arm that was safely tucked in the sling slightly.

"Good, good. The healer was quite concerned for you at first. He'll probably be by again tomorrow. Now how's the chess game coming along?"

Finn briefly looked down at the chess board with displeasure, noting how very few of his pieces were remaining yet again. Frodo Baggins was a sharp player, and his uncle even better. He had no desire to be creamed yet again by both of them, for he knew Bilbo would inevitable end up giving his nephew pointers no matter how hard he tried to keep silent.

"I think I've had enough for this morning," he declared regally, stretching out against the backboard. Frodo cheerfully put the board away without complaint, and Finn reflected that being ill in bed was at least good for some things. "Do you wanted to work on our book for a bit?" he asked.

"Of course! We were almost finished the chapter on King Thorin last time, weren't we?" said Frodo, jumping up to fetch the notebook they had filled with stories on dwarven heroes from the desk.

"Mind you didn't you don't spill any more ink on the sheets Frodo Baggins, or I'll be forced to confine you to a charcoal pencil nib," Bilbo warned half seriously as he turned to leave.

"We won't!" both boys chimed simultaneously, settling onto the bed for the serious business of writing.

Bilbo was almost through the door when Frodo looked up and asked, "Does 'stubborn' have one 'b' or two?"

_Meanwhile in the heart of Erebor…_

Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain parted the iron doors before him with a single thrust of his fist and strode down the passageway in a barely contained fury. His two nephews hurried along behind him, wisely keeping silent. The king's iron plated boots pounded into the stone floor with unnecessary force and his fists remained clenched at his side, but the hall was long and devoid of any life, and by the time they reached the end of it he had regained some measure of composure. This was just as well, as Fíli's wife Héndra was waiting there for them.

"How did the council ruling go?" she asked anxiously, seeing their grave faces.

"Well enough," offered Fíli. "They're still delaying as much as possible, but I think they'll be forced to rule in Thorin's favour by the end of the week."

"Well, that's encouraging then," she ventured cautiously. "And the problem then is…?"

"Those stupid self-satisfied elders!" Kíli suddenly exploded, kicking the stone wall with pent-up frustration. Though Thorin himself could not give into such displays of temper even when alone with his family, it was still somewhat satisfying to see the wrath that he felt being released.

"Even though they have no good reason why Fíli shouldn't be king, and Thorin's word is practically law, they still insist on using their power to its fullest extent by dragging everything out and infuriating everyone concerned! Why do they even care if Dáin were to rule in any matter?" Kíli continued his rant.

"Politics, brother dear," said Fíli exasperatedly. "Weren't you listening? Land treaties, mine yields, trade agreements, clan tributes… the last three speakers managed to blather on for at least an hour each about the benefits of having a king from the Iron Hills."

"But they'll still get all of those things if you're king!" Kíli protested.

"True. Which is why all of this arguing is just a load of-" Fíli cut himself off as Héndra raised an eyebrow at him. "Sorry dear. We were discussing what again?"

"The Council of Elders. I don't see why Uncle doesn't just throttle them all and sign the papers making Fíli the crown prince anyway," Kíli said.

Thorin sighed and began walking down the hall towards the Royal Wing, where no doubt Balin was waiting to discuss the latest developments. Truthfully he did feel like giving into Kíli's impetuous suggestions sometimes, but to brashly flaunt the wishes of the council, particularly in matters as important as the succession smacked of tyranny and would go ill the many hundreds of honest dwarrow who had elected said officials.

"Someday Kíli, you will realise that being king does not mean the world conforms to your every command," he said wearily.

"What are you talking about? I have no intention whatsoever of being king!" Kíli protested as they walked alongside Thorin, Héndra on Fíli's arm.

"But I have no doubt your brother will speedily make you aware of the fact after your first dozen requests upon his ascension," said Thorin dryly. To his surprise both Fíli and Héndra laughed at that, and even Kíli couldn't help but grin ruefully.

After a brief silence during which the only sound that could be heard in the all but deserted corridor was the echoing tramp of their boots and the gentle swish of Héndra's skirt, Fíli spoke up.

"I met with the captain of the Mountain Guards this morning. Gráin Rockhead-"

"_Rockhart_, dear," corrected Héndra.

"Well, it ought to be Rockhead, I've met smarter trolls. I don't see why you replaced Dwalin with him-"

"Dwalin _was _captain of the guard for the past thirty years and was looking for a bit of a change," Thorin interjected.

"He would have been happy to be the captain for the rest of his life Uncle, you know that. You only asked him if he wanted to retire to appease the council. In any case, I was talking with this Rockhart fellow, and they have yet to turn up anything in relation to the recent assassination attempts, or 'suspicious accidents' as they're calling them."

"Right, the crossbow that went off at the training grounds was just an accident. If I hadn't been wearing my mithril coat under my jerkin I would have been skewered," muttered Kíli darkly. "And they say they don't know who did it. How do you _not _notice someone leveling a loaded crossbow? The useless guards were standing right there too."

"You know Kíli, that really might have been an accident," Héndra put in.

"Oh, and I'm supposed to think the affair with Ida and the servant with the throwing knives at the last banquet was an accident too? They're getting bolder, and whoever's backing them is getting desperate," Kíli snapped, gripping the handle of the sword he had started wearing constantly again. Not that any of them had ever actually stopped carrying a weapon; they had only taken to being more discreet in the years of peace.

Thorin caught Fíli glaring at his brother and mouthing _Don't worry her!_. Kíli shrugged and clamped his mouth shut in submission. Now what was that about? He resolved to question his nephew later.

"Now unless I'm gravely mistaken brother, it's time for our review of the mine output. This month's yields came in yesterday at substantially less than expected, and our presence has been requested while a corruption check is carried out," Fíli announced, changing subjects.

Thorin expected Kíli to complain to high heaven about attending yet _another _meeting, but his nephew merely scowled and nodded. That was also troubling.

"What will you being doing for the remainder of the afternoon, Héndra?" Fíli inquired of his wife.

"I'm feeling rather tired. I believe I'll just go back to our apartment and lie down a while."

"Of course dear. I'll send a servant to bring you something hot. The review shouldn't run past supper, so I shall see you then," Fíli paused to kiss her quickly before turning down the side passage that lead to the public passageways, Kíli following unwillingly along behind him.

"May I escort you to your room, as I am going that way myself?" Thorin said formally with a hint of a smile, extending his arm to her.

Héndra smiled sweetly and accepted the kind favour.

"I am so relieved your health has improved, Uncle," she said as they walked down the well-lit corridor, calling him by the title he had insisted on since the day of Fíli's betrothal to her. "We were so concerned when we summoned Kíli back those few months ago."

"I thank you for your concern," Thorin responded automatically. Truthfully, he wasn't quite as well as he appeared (he _was_ over two hundred and thirty after all, when most dwarves were more than entitled to show their age a bit) but the recent ridiculous fuss over the succession had motivated him to hide any weariness or infirmities he might feel. He needed to appear to appear fit and strong-willed before his opposition. That was what had started this whole trouble in the first place after the hunting accident last year, the weeks spent in his private chamber had given those troublesome elders the idea their king might not be able to reject a combined scheme of theirs. Even now his knee ached where the stray hunting spear had gouged it, and he resolved to put a hot compress on it once he was alone in his chambers.

Though truthfully, appearing strong and commanding hadn't served much of a purpose in the more recent negotiations, as it made Fíli's eventually ascension seem to be a thing many decades away. Perhaps a bit of play-acting might be in order, if that would hurry the council's decision. Kíli was right, the attacks had increased as the deliberations had closed, and soon one might prove fatal.

Héndra had remained silent all the while he was mulling over these things, and suddenly he was reminded of her earlier words and Fíli's concern.

"You mentioned you were tired a few minutes ago. That is not like you, to rest during the day. I trust nothing is troubling your own health?" Thorin asked directly.

Héndra opened her mouth quickly, then paused before blushing slightly. "Nothing has been particularly troubling, Uncle. It's only that- well, I believe that I am expecting again."

_That _was certainly not what the king had expected to hear. Thorin found himself stumbling to form a coherent reply. But once he had gotten over his initial shock, he found he was delighted by the revelation. The birth of each of his nephews' children had brought him an unexpected amount of joy.

"That is indeed heartening news, Héndra, particularly at a time such as this. I hope you and your future child shall continue in good health."

Héndra smiled again, before adding a few moments later, "Well, Fíli always was very eager for Finn to have a sibling, and I believe it has irked him lately that his little brother has more children than him..."

Thorin couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. Would his nephews _ever _grow up and leave their childish games of that sort behind? As if she could read his mind, Héndra patted his arm and said, "Don't mind that, it's one of the things I love about him. Now, I believe we must part ways."

They had finally arrived at the Royal Wing, and Thorin's chambers lay farther down the passage, while the princes' apartments lay to the right.

"Thank you for the escort, Uncle. I enjoyed our talk," said Héndra, reaching up to lightly kiss Thorin's cheek.

The King under the Mountain smiled after the wife of his sister-son before turning to stride down the passage, the news of a future royal dwarfling lightening his usually heavy steps. Soon this disastrous mess about the succession would blow over, and peace would be restored to his mountain halls. Mahal knows they had earned it. And perhaps he would take a step back and let Fíli attend to more of the day to day running of the kingdom, and he might have some time to spend with his nephews' children when they returned. It was a shame he had never taken the time to teach them archery and swordsmanship the way he had taught Fíli and Kíli. Yes, he would most definitely spend some time with Finn and Dís and little Thror- er, Taurion when they returned, he decided as he stepped through the double iron doors of his apartment, hardly noticing the guards missing from their customary stations.

That was when he heard the screams ringing down the hall.

…

Héndra flattened herself against the back wall of stone, her trembling hand holding a bloodstained dagger. At her feet lay a groaning dwarf bleeding to death on the floor, and the sight and smell was enough to make her sick with her pregnancy-heightened senses. Two more fully-helmeted assailants appeared in the doorway of her apartment, seemingly shocked at the fact she was still alive while their comrade lay on the floor half dead. She made use of their momentary confusion by darting back down the passageway screaming for help as loudly as she could in hopes that Thorin or any of those useless mountain guards would hear. It briefly occurred to her that the guards were in on the plot likely as not and attracting attention may not be the wisest of choices, but the decision was out of her control when the gauntleted hand of a pursuing foe seized her shoulder and threw her to the floor.

She rolled over several times before crumpling in a heap against wall. The four-now eight assassins caught up and formed a half circle around her, their faces all masked except for one whose helmet only covered half of his black-bearded face. He smiled a horribly twisted grin that caused her heart to go cold before reaching forward to seize her by the throat. Instinctively she lashed out with the dagger that she had managed to keep a hold of during her fall. Her attacker stumbled backwards howling in pain as he clutched his nearly lacerated fingers. While he doubled over in agony, the nearest dwarf turned to her and merely raised his axe. Her final scream remained frozen upon her lips as she realised this was to be her untimely ending and the tragic death of the child within her.

Suddenly the rapid pounding of heavy feet could be heard behind the wall of foes, and her would-be murderer turned to the side only to fall down dead as the full wrath of Thorin Oakenshield crashed down upon the unfortunate guards. Three of the enemy were cut down in seconds under his gleaming blade. The stern face of the dwarf king was now alive with a righteous rage as he roared with anger and the guards hastily fell back before him.

Then they seemed to recall they outnumbered Thorin four to one and they had more reinforcements hidden. Calling to their concealed comrades, the helmeted dwarves rallied themselves together and converged on Thorin, and the ear-splitting crash of steel on steel ran out in the Royal Wing.

Héndra tried to force herself to rise, to make some use of herself with her dagger or running to fetch help, but her legs would not obey her. She remained curled in a heap with her arms clasped around her middle, praying for this nightmare to end and Fíli to come and save her. But she must help Thorin... there were so many of them. The screams of the dying and the clash of weapons filled her ears. Shaking uncontrollably, she pushed herself to her knees and struggled not to be sick. Her vision dimmed as she raised her head with effort to see what was happening around her.

The sound of the ferocious fight suddenly seemed muted somehow, until she realised there were only two dwarves still fighting. She strained her eyes until the two figures swam into focus, whereupon one stabbed the other through a gap in the armour and the loser crumpled to the floor with a ghastly moan.

To her inexpressible relief, the dwarf left standing was Thorin. He was panting heavily with one arm pressed against his side and the other leaning on his sword. The anguish on his face lessoned considerably when he saw that she was at least alive, and he stumbled over the strewn corpses towards her before sliding to his knees on a splash of blood.

"Are you hurt, Héndra?" he asked in between gasps of breath.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. He sighed in relief before abruptly wincing and pressing his arm more firmly against his left side.

"Uncle! You're wounded!" she gasped, noticing the growing red stain soaking through his royal apparel.

Thorin shut his eyes tightly against the pain. "Not a wound… the last one... nicked me. Call…Fíli," he forced out, before toppling over on the bloodstained marble floor.

"Uncle… Uncle!" she cried, desperately trying to wake him. A faint gasp alerted her to the presence of another dwarf, and she looked up to see a horrified page standing in the hallway entrance, his mouth gaping open and the tray of tea that Fíli had sent in hand.

"Quick! Run and fetch the princes and royal healers with all haste! The life of the King depends on it!" Héndra cried.

The poor page wasted another few precious seconds gaping at the grisly scene of the battle before dropping his tea tray and flying back down the hall. As his frantic footsteps faded into the distance, Héndra could no longer keep back the overpowering wave of tears, and her entire body was racked with sobs as she first tried to stem the flow of blood seeping through Thorin's linen shirt with her skirt, then with a torn tunic from one of slain dwarves.

It seemed like hours later before Fíli arrived at a run with the little page behind him. He took in the scene of the battle with a glance and was at Héndra's side in a moment, his arm around her as she all but collapsed onto him. He simply pressed a relieved kiss to her forehead and drew her tightly to him, his shuddering breath revealing how panic-stricken he had been upon hearing of the attack.

"Kíli'll be here any moment with healers and the rest of them," he murmured. Then he removed his arm and focused his full attention on his uncle, calling his name and trying to bring him back to consciousness.

Thorin's eyes blinked open just as Kíli arrived with what seemed to be half the court of Erebor behind. Seeing the king lying upon the ground with his nephew by his side, the crowd stopped a respectful distance away while Kíli darted forward.

"Ah, you called them. Good," said Thorin to Héndra, as if it had only been moments since they last spoke.

"We're here Uncle," said Fíli reassuringly. "Now Kíli's brought Oin so I'm going to call him over and-"

"Don't bother about that," Thorin cut in sharply. "We have a limited amount of time."

"Uncle, don't say that-"

"I said don't bother!" ordered Thorin. Fíli clamped his mouth shut from long ingrained habit.

"Now, it seems I'm going to be handing over the throne sooner than we anticipated-"

At this Héndra lost what little remained of her already shattered composure and began to sob bitterly into Fíli's shoulder. Thorin growled in frustration at yet another interruption and seemed to be about to order her away, but then apparently remembered something important.

"Fíli, comfort your wife. You don't want her to miscarry amid all of this," he commanded. Even on his deathbed, Thorin Oakenshield was still master of the situation. Fíli's mouth gaped open several times in a way that would have been comical if not for the tragic circumstances, before inching a few paces away with Héndra and whispering calmingly into her ear as he rocked her back and forth.

His words seemed to have the desired effect, for after a brief span Héndra ceased weeping and straightened herself, her tear and blood streaked face set determinedly.

Fíli crawled back across the floor to his uncle's side where Kíli was already kneeling, heedless of the many eyes watching the drama play out. So far his younger brother yet to say a word, and was simply sitting in shocked silence with an overwhelmed expression on his face.

Thorin's breathing had increased rapidly in the brief interval, and his teeth were now bared in a silent expression of pain.

"Are there… others watching?" the king managed to force out.

"Yes Uncle," said Fíli, struggling to keep his voice calm and wondering why in Durin's name his uncle cared about having an audience at a time like this.

"Good," Thorin murmured. "Then in the presence of all who stand witness, I give this to you, Fíli son of Dís. May your rule be long and honourable," And with a final effort, Thorin removed his signet ring and placed it in his startled nephew's hand.

Unable to believe this was happening, Fíli's gaze flickered from his uncle's remarkably composed face down to the ring in his hand that unmistakeably marked him as Thorin's chosen heir. Beside him a muffled sob escaped Kíli through the hand that he had tightly pressed over his mouth. The hushed murmurs of the gathering at the corridor entrance fell silent as they slowly comprehended what had just taken place.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end, Fíli cried out silently as Thorin's eyes drifted shut despite his now frantic pleadings mingled with Kíli's as he tightly grasped his uncle's hand and Oin suddenly arrived on the scene. Not in bloodshed, in the halls of their own Mountain they had all nearly died reclaiming. How could he accept the rule of a kingdom from his dying uncle whom he had sworn and failed to protect?

The silent crowd of dwarves in the passage, from the most respected elder to the lowliest guard, dropped to their knees in unspoken respect to private moment between family unfolding before them, the death of their King under the Mountain.

…

"Are you finished yet, Frodo?" Finn asked eagerly from his bed.

The young hobbit carefully printed the final words of the chapter before straightening up and arranging his pages. "I think I've got it all now," he answered.

"Good. Will you read it?"

Frodo cleared his throat and began. "-And so Thorin Oakenshield II, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, began his very long and happy reign without any more dragon attacks or wars with elves, and eventually had two charming grand-nephews and a grand-niece. Everyone in Erebor was very happy, and they all agreed King Thorin was the best king they'd ever had, or at least for a very very long time. The End," he finished.

"Perfect!" said Finn with satisfaction, leaning back to rest on his pillows again.

"I agree," said Bilbo from his now familiar spot by the door. "You'd be hard pressed to find a more fitting tribute."

"Thank you, Uncle Bilbo," said Frodo, very pleased. "Finn and I have finished seven whole chapters now!"

"And I couldn't be more proud," said Bilbo, coming over to ruffle his nephew's hair and studying the interesting mess of rough drafts, lists of questionably spelled words, and hurried sketches that he had spread over the desk.

"You know Frodo lad, all this writing you've been doing has got me thinking I might really start on my own book."

**Sorry for that rather macabre early Christmas offering, I really am. I felt very guilty for doing this at first to our long-suffering Durins. But all isn't lost yet, so hang in there!**

**I hope everyone has a peaceful and happy holiday. Or as least as happy as it can be so close to the release of The Battle of the Five Armies (sob). I have yet to see it yet by the way, so no spoilers in the reviews please :) Expect the final chapter sometime around New Year's, where I'll try to cheer things up a bit and find a suitable ending for this tale. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, and have a Merry Christmas! **


	8. Chapter 8- An Open Door

After a long and most eventful winter, spring had finally arrived. Finn was feeling quite conflicted about the change of seasons, as part of him was delighted by the warmer weather and new life in the Shire while the rest of him knew this only meant that Kíli's return would soon be imminent. Still, that wasn't going to stop him from enjoying every minute of his stay here.

There were just so many unexpected and amazing delights to be found in and around Hobbiton. Finn's arm sling had been abandoned along with the melting snow, and from that time onwards the dwarflings and hobbit had disappeared outside to play the lengthening days away. The younger Gamgees continued to join in occasionally on their various games of hiding and sneaking, all of which the dwarf children struggled with, as they lacked the natural stealthiness of hobbits. Finally Finn, after being caught again for the fourth time in a game of Blind Tig, had suggested a few good old fashioned duels with sticks. But both he and Dís were been shocked to discover their companions had never picked up a stick to hit someone with in their lives.

So Finn had set out to rectify the problem by instructing the Gamgee children in basic weaponry, which equally amused and bewildered them at the strange ways of dwarves. The sharp cracks of wood smacking together in the front yard along with the spirited duels Finn and Dís enacted as demonstrations soon attracted the attention of other neighbouring hobbit children, and before Bilbo had a chance to raise a protest there were daily lessons being given on his front lawn. Finn marched up and down his row of stick-wielding trainees with pride, giving tips and instruction as he went. Dís didn't directly exchange blows with the boy hobbits, as it made them uncomfortable to hit girls, even feisty dwarf ones, and rattled their already uncoordinated actions. She instead only fought with Finn (he had no qualms about hitting her, as she was as good, if not better than he was), and instructed any of the hobbit lasses that were interested. A few of the girls shyly admitted they admired her hair, which was long and black and most impressively braided, and soon enough she arranging curls and fixing braids for anyone who asked her in between duels.

Bilbo had watched all this from his front step and wondered when the angry mob was going to arrive to protest their childrens' strangely done hair and recent violent behaviour, but no one even complained to his hearing. Finn knew that most of the hobbit children simply had the sense not to mention some things to their parents. Though they had been very lucky at the absence of major injuries with the sword fighting, even though they had stuck to sticks to reduce damage.

And truthfully, the stick training had only been a minor distraction for the dwarflings. They had plenty of time to get up to all sorts of other fun, from the camping trip in Buckland with Frodo's cousin Merry to the time Finn had trounced Lotho Sackville-Baggins when he had come looking for trouble. Or more correctly Frodo, armed with his newly learned skills had beat him after challenging his tormentor to a duel, and Finn only finished him off with his fists after Lotho cheated.

"Good times, good times…" Finn muttered to himself with a smile as he put the finishing touches on the leather cover he was making for his book. It was a shame they would be coming to an end. _Expect me in the spring _his Uncle Kíli had promised.

"Finn! Finn!" Taurion exclaimed breathlessly as he burst into the room. The dwarfling's feet were bare and covered in mud. Finn groaned inwardly as he imagined Bilbo's reaction to this desecration of his freshly-mopped floor.

"Tauri! Look at your feet! Where are your boots?" Finn asked for what felt like the hundredth time this month.

His cousin scowled and crossed his arms, carrying off the infamous Durin look of unmoveable stubbornness admirably despite his small size.

"Don't wear shoes anymore," he insisted.

"But Taurion, just because we live with hobbits doesn't mean you are one. Aunt Ida's going to be very-"

"Hurry Finn!" said Taurion desperately, suddenly cutting him off and tugging at his sleeve. "The chicks are hatching!"

"_Now_?" gasped Finn, jumping up and nearly spilling an ink bottle over all his work. The Gamgees had made the dwarflings a gift of several fertile eggs a little over two weeks ago, and Taurion had been over every day to check on them, infecting the others with his eager excitement over the eventual hatching.

"Yes! Hurry, everyone's already there!"

Finn merrily followed after his little cousin's muddy footprints down the hall and out into the fresh Shire sunshine, leaving the round door swinging on its hinges. Yes, he was definitely happy to stay in the Shire for a long time yet.

…

Not very far away, the same sun shone down on Kíli's head and a warm breeze blew round him, but the dwarf was currently far too high-strung to notice it. He shifted in the saddle yet again and subtly urged his pony a bit faster, hoping Ida wouldn't notice. No such luck.

"Kíli! Are you _trying _to run down the innocent hobbits who might accidently wander into your path? You told me yourself we'll be there any minute, so slow down and give your poor pony a rest."

Kíli knew she was right, and so reluctantly returned to his former pace. Mildred however sensed the excitement of her master and strained at the bit, eager to rush ahead. He held her back with a firm hand while at the same time leaned forward in the saddle, trying to see around a tree growing alongside the road. Bag End ought to be just around the corner and up the hill…

"I see it!" he announced triumphantly, before settling back down again. "Bilbo's home is just up the rise." His eyes met with Ida and they both smiled with barely contained joy, knowing their long months of separation were finally at an end. Their children were a mere few minutes away.

"Do I look alright?" Ida suddenly asked with a tinge of anxiety, smoothing her glossy dark braids down. Kíli almost laughed aloud at the question. Did she think Dís and Taurion were going to care if the long-absent mother's hair was perfectly braided?

"You look lovely," he told heartily.

She must have heard the faint amusement in his tone and huffed a bit. "Well, I've never met Mr. Baggins before, unlike you. And we've been traveling on the road for weeks now."

"Even if your fine gowns were worn to rags and your loxly hair a tangled nest, you would still be the fairest dwarf to me," Kíli said in a drawling monotone. He was reciting a line from a poet at the last feast whom Ida had declared to be 'unusually tasteless and nauseating'. He risked looking back briefly only to see his wife rummaging in her saddle bags for something to throw at him.

Suddenly Ida's pony darted past his and up the road. Kíli protested loudly at this act of unfairness but she merely flashed him an impish grin before darting around the corner. All pretenses at restraint forgotten, he urged his steed after her and Mildred was only too happy to comply. They flew up the hill together, Kíli just behind Ida, their ponies' hooves making only muffled clops against the gently worn path. A flock of ducks waddled out of the way for dear life while quaking madly, and at least three shocked glares from startled hobbits were directed at them, but Kíli couldn't have cared less. Though he suspected Ida was felt otherwise, judging from her flaming cheeks when she briefly glanced behind her with an embarrassed smile.

Still, she made it to the Bagginses' mailbox first, but Kíli in a final act of impetuousness leapt from his pony while still in motion, sailing over the garden fence and bounding up the steps to stand triumphantly at the front door. Ida looked at him briefly in disbelief while he grinned at her, before shaking her head at him and dismounting her pony with graceful dignity. Kíli felt guilty for the briefest of moments for acting so immaturely, what if someone had seen him from a window? Then he reminded himself he hadn't had any fun in the longest time and he wasn't in Erebor playing the perfect prince anymore. He turned to knock on the round green door, imagining the following trample of booted feet and shrieks of excitement that would ensue.

But the door was already slightly ajar, rocking slightly in the wind. Kíli took ahold of the knob and knocked anyway, but there was no response. It was perfectly silent inside the hobbit hole. Ida stepped up behind him and paled at his worried face.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I'm not quite sure..." said Kíli uncertainly. He stepped inside the hallway and looked around. The door was left open, there was mud trod across the floor, and coming into the kitchen he could see that half the cupboard doors had been opened and their contents spilled across the counter and table.

"It looks as though someone left in a hurry," Ida remarked, her tone outwardly calm, but Kíli could detect the undercurrent of worry running through it.

"Bilbo? Finn?" he called out, slightly increasing his pace as they walked down the hall. The first two bedrooms he checked were empty with the sheets a tumbled mess. So they weren't here. Alright then, perhaps they had taken a little day trip… leaving in the middle of the night with the front door open. Kíli felt his muscles clenching with the same dread he thought he had left behind in Erebor. What if the conspirators had discovered this hiding place after all, and they had gotten here first Durin forbid-

"Perhaps they're in the back?" he suggested to Ida, trying to keep his voice equally calm. She didn't look convinced, but headed back through the front door all the same. Kíli began to search with greater urgency, struggling to control the blinding panic rising up inside him. They _had _to be here, they _must _be. Perhaps Bilbo had left a note, saying when they would be back. He began to search all the loose sheets of paper lying around, looking for a message.

His heart almost stopped when he flipped over a childish drawing with several messy figures scrawled onto it. "My Famlee' read the title. He recognised himself and Ida standing together, their children beside them, and Fíli's family standing off to the side. In the centre stood 'Uncul Torin', sword in hand and a ginormous crown on his head. Kíli thought it couldn't get any more heartbreaking than that, but off on the side closest to Taurion's immediate family, stood Bilbo and Frodo together holding hands, messy curly hair scribbled on their heads and feet to emphasize they were hobbits. His son's messy signature was scribbled in the corner, along with the inscription, 'Too Adad and Mummy'.

Kíli clutched at the little drawing in both hands and couldn't take his eyes off it. He could hear Ida calling his name outside the house, but he felt treacherous tears ready to betray him if so much as moved, and that would never do. He had to be strong and go find-

The backdoor of the hobbit hole burst open and a dark blur shot through, tackling Kíli's legs.

"Adad! Adad!" sobbed the little voice, completely overcome by emotion. Kíli could never describe how unbelievable it felt to snatch his son off the floor and envelop him in a breath-quenching hug. They stood like that for a long time, Kíli just rocking Taurion back and forth and never wanting to let go again, while the little boy clung to his father and freely sobbed all his unshed tears from the last several months onto his chest. Kíli wasn't ashamed of the tears that escaped his own eyes then either. Finally Taurion pulled back long enough to look up at his father's face before burying himself back down again and whispering, "I missed you so much,"

"Me too, mizimith," Kíli whispered back. "I'm sorry you were so lonely this whole time."

"Oh, I wasn't, not really," said Taurion, abruptly cheering up again and wiping his tears away. "It's very nice here, and Mr. Bilbo and Frodo are the bestest hobbits in the whole world. Can't we all live here now?"

Kíli was lost for words on how to reply to that, but he was saved the trouble because at that moment the other dwarflings bounded through the front door, followed by Ida and the hobbits. There was another tearful greeting as Dís flew into her father's arms. After that Kíli noticed how lonely Finn looked at the absence of his parents, and he made sure to give him an extra warm hug as well. His nephew looked slightly more cheerful after that.

"My dear Kíli, I am so terribly sorry," spluttered Bilbo as soon as he could get a word in edgewise. "We were just down at the neighbours watching their chicken's eggs hatch. As for the state of the kitchen, I'm afraid Finn was in a rush to find some ground corn to feed them."

Finn looked suitable remorseful at this last statement and Kíli just laughed and assured him it was nothing to worry about. Apparently the dear old hobbit was in too much of a fluster to notice the muddy floors yet.

Ida was kneeling on the floor listening intently to Taurion who was animatedly describing the hatching of the eggs.

"And- and then there was a tiny _crack _in the egg and you could see the little tiny beak poke through and– and then a big piece fell off the other egg and then-"

"Calm down Tauri," laughed Ida, pulling her son closer again. Taurion finally paused for breath and simply smiled up at the others. It was clear the little dwarf couldn't possibly be happier. Kíli's heart darkened at the news that must eventually follow.

"Well, now that we've all greeted each other properly, why don't we have some tea in the kitchen and talk about the last few months," said Bilbo, his tone deceptively light.

"That's an excellent idea. Thank you, Master Baggins," said Ida gratefully.

"No trouble at all," he insisted. "And please just call me Bilbo."

Kíli followed after Taurion who was dragging him by the hand so as to ensure he got to sit right next to his father, and wondered just how he was going to explain to his children and nephew the recent events in Erebor.

**Sorry for that shorter chapter, but this was the only natural break or else I was going to be stuck with a six thousand word monster next week. On the bright side, you get an extra chapter before I wrap this up, my dear readers! I hope you all had a pleasant Christmas! Thanks for reading and please review (think of it as a late-Christmas-early-New-Years-present).**

**P.S. If you recall from the last chapter, Héndra had some exciting news :)**** So I'm opening it up to you readers to vote on whether Finn should get a new brother or sister! Kíli has a boy and a girl, so should Fíli have a little brother for Finn or a sister? Just mention it in your review which one you think and I'll tally up the votes for when I write a future scene in Erebor!**


	9. Chapter 9 - Return to the Mountain

**So, I finally saw BOTFA... I think I can say I loved it more than I hated it. Though I will forever be in denial about the manner of the Durin princes' deaths. Just... no. Fíli deserved better than that. Thank goodness I wrote this chapter beforehand, otherwise it would be considerably less cheerful. But I'm well on my way to recovery, as I've got the Last Goodbye to listen to a million times and a better extended edition to hope for. And Bilbo's role was played to perfection, and which is the important thing considering it's his story in the first place.**

**And now I'm very excited to share this chapter with you, as I had a few friends proofread it and they thought it was rather good :) **

"And then after the vegetable raid and the snow storm and Finn hurt his wrist we just stayed inside and I got a cold!" Taurion gleefully announced to his open-mouthed parents. Bilbo's head dropped into his hands.

"You make me sound like the most irresponsible guardian ever given charge of dwarflings," he said mournfully.

The little group was gathered around Bag End's kitchen table. Outside the sun was just beginning to set and it was growing chilly. Bilbo had been bustling about shutting windows and rekindling the fire, and now everyone had a hot drink in hand and several plates of sweets (compliments of Dís) had been laid out. Taurion was settled comfortably on his father's lap, and Dís had her knees tucked up on the bench and was huddled against her mother, who had one arm wrapped around her and kept reaching out with the other to gently ruffle her son's hair. Kíli frequently did the same to Finn, who accepted it good naturedly despite his older age after the long separation. Bilbo was struck not for the first time by how close the family before him was, and it cheered his heart to see them reunited again.

"Nonsense Bilbo," said Ida warmly. "I'm sure there were plenty of peaceful times in between your little adventures."

"Yep!" said Finn. "We did lots of reading and storytelling and Frodo and I wrote a book which you have to see Uncle Kíli, it's amazing. And Dís learned to cook-"

"I already knew how to cook, you nitwit!" Dís interrupted with a toss of her hair. Despite her earlier resolution never to say an unkind word to her cousin again after losing him in the snow storm, things had quickly returned to normal under the stress of Finn's teasing during his convalescence. Though they still were generally kinder to each other than before the incident, Bilbo had noted.

"Well, you learned how to cook good hobbit food, which is different. And then-"

"I learned to speak Elvish!" the youngest dwarf declared proudly, reducing everyone to silence yet again.

And so on it continued for a good hour, everyone taking turns to share story after story as Kíli and Ida eagerly drank up all that had happened to their children in their absence. Bilbo was just putting on the second kettle of tea when Finn finally broached the subject all the adults had been avoiding.

"You said my Mum and Adad were fine, Uncle Kíli. But if that's true, why didn't they come?" he said quietly, his voice betraying his doubt.

Ida looked to Kíli to answer. Kíli stared down into the depths of his tea mug and fidgeted with a half-eaten cookie.

"Your mother and father are both well Finn, I promise you that. But do you remember danger of attacks in Erebor, the reason why you had to leave?"

All three dwarflings nodded slowly.

"Well, there were more of them, and we were all very thankful you were far away and safe. And then, just a week before the council promised to make their decision, there was a really terrible attack, the worst so far…"

And with that Kíli began to describe the ambush in the Royal Wing on Héndra and how King Thorin had been drawn into it, keeping the frightening details at a minimum so as to not frighten the children. Even so, Taurion chewed nervously on the end of his braid and nested deeper into Kíli's lap, while Finn and Frodo and Dís alike leaned forward, completely gripped by the terrible story. Kíli's voice almost broke as he described the moment when Thorin handed his signet ring to his brother and all watching had dropped to their knees, and Ida patted her husband's hand.

Bilbo cleared his throat several times and rubbed his forehead, while the children sat in silence, too shocked to say anything. "I suppose that means… Fíli's awaiting his coronation?" he asked awkwardly.

A faint snort of laughter escaped Kíli. "Not quite," he said. "Believe it or not, the story actually gets better from there."

…

_Previously in the heart of Erebor_

Fili gripped the ring he had just been given in his fist with all his strength to still the trembling in his fingers and bowed his head. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, he felt like screaming to the watching court as he knelt with his brother beside his uncle's bleeding body. Why were they being made to go through this, why was Thorin dying by a traitor's sword when they had already spent so much blood and almost lost their lives reclaiming the Mountain for these people?

Oin had knelt by Thorin's head and was grumbling something to himself. Fíli dreaded hearing the healer's verdict. Instead, the aged dwarf clapped his hands together by the king's ear and called his name.

Thorin's eyes flickered open and he coughed roughly before taking larger breathes than he had before, causing hope to spike again in Fíli's heart. Perhaps this wasn't going to end the way they all had first assumed.

Once conscious, the king seemed to regain the same sense of urgency he had before.

"Kíli! Fíli! Move me out of the hallway, now!" he ordered sharply in between forced breathes.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," said Oín, his ear trumpet directed at the king. "You're no shape to be moved anywhere in your condition. I'll call a team of healers and have the hallway cleared-"

"Quiet! If I'm dying I'm at least allowed to make last requests!" snapped Thorin.

Fíli briefly glanced at Kíli, who looked as hopelessly confused as he felt, before turning back to Oín for his agreement.

"Oh, suit yourself!" snapped the healer, who had missed Thorin's exact words but still grasped the obvious intent. "You've never listened to a healer a day in your life so there's no reason to expect you to do so now. Lads, help me move him,"

"Where should we go?" whispered Kíli as he slid his arms under Thorin's shoulders, who had resolutely grit his teeth and was plainly refusing to acknowledge the existence of pain. Then something apparently snapped and Thorin began to groan and cry out in a manner Fíli had never heard before, not even when his uncle's wounds were cauterised after the battle for the Mountain.

"Should we stop, Uncle?" he asked anxiously.

"Ignore me. Just carry me to your room," Thorin hissed before carrying on with the occasional groan and gasp. With effort the brothers raised him off the floor and began moving towards Fíli's apartments, which despite being the closest rooms suddenly seemed very far away. Oín waved away the guards and healers that rushed forward to help, ordering them all to remain down the hall, but he paused to pull Héndra aside.

"Run and fetch Balin," the healer said in a loud whisper. "I've no doubt the king will want him next."

Thorin went abruptly silent as soon as Fíli and Kíli crossed the threshold and laid him down on the nearest bed, further confirming Fíli's suspicions that all this seemed be an elaborate charade. Oín bustled in a moment later, but Thorin waved him off yet again.

"Call Balin. Tell him to-"

"What's that?" said Oín, pretending to be completely deaf as he moved closer and began prodding firmly at Thorin's side

"Gah! You heard me! Call Balin now or I'll-"

"He's already here, Uncle," said Héndra soothingly, coming into the room with the white-bearded dwarf behind her.

Balin darted to the king's bedside at once, his wizened face creased with worry. But the fact his old friend was still attempting to swat away Oín's ministrations seemed to reassure him somewhat. Finally Thorin lost what little remained of his patience.

"Enough Oín! Or I'll send you from the room! I'm not in immediate danger, am I?"

"You most certainly are if you don't allow me to bandage the wound! Now lie still while I finish the job. I'll clean it properly later, if your business is so urgent."

Thorin ceased protesting for the moment and allowed the dwarf to do his work. "Did you bring the documents, Balin?" he asked after a pause.

"Of course, Thorin. That was my first thought when I heard my king was mortally wounded,"

Thorin gave Balin a look. Clearly he didn't appreciate sarcasm at this moment. Balin relented and sighed, "Yes, I brought them. I suppose you want me to prepare them now?"

Thorin grunted his assent. Kíli finally ventured to speak in the brief lull that followed "What do you mean it isn't serious? Uncle, you were _dying _out there. You fainted- er, lost consciousness at least twice. How can that not be serious, Oín?"

The aged healer snorted derisively. "It'll take more than bloody scratch to finish off your uncle, you lads ought to know that by now. It looks worse than it is. And what you all seem to be forgetting is that our king is now _two hundred and thirty-three_, when most dwarves are great-grandfathers who sit about smoking their pipes and trading tales. Maybe now he'll admit his age is catching up with him and finally start taking my advice and resting a bit!" Oín finished his tirade with the snap of a torn bandage.

Huh, Fíli hadn't quite thought about it that way before. Neither had Kíli, judging from the way his brother was rubbing his beard thoughtfully.

"You sounded like Bilbo there. '_I just turned ninety last week!' _he said when I asked to him to look after the children," Kíli told the healer.

"Well, Master Baggins always did have a good dose of common sense, unlike certain other people I can mention," Oín snorted as he eased Thorin into a sitting position.

"Those documents ready, Balin?" Thorin called, resolutely ignoring the conversation around him.

"Just about," the dwarf answered, scribbling the last few dates down. "Fíli? Do you have a writing table handy?"

Fíli quickly fetched his own lap-sized desk from his chamber. "And all this fuss is for what, exactly?"

Balin laughed. "Have you not caught on yet, lad? We're signing the royal succession documents."

Fíli couldn't believe what he had heard. All this fuss, and now they were going ahead and defying the council anyway? He looked down at the parchment Balin had thrust into his hand, and suddenly everything snapped into place.

"The council won't be able to refuse the last wishes of a dying king. You're guilting them into signing it ahead of time!" he reasoned aloud excitedly.

"Exactly. Clever, don't you think?" said Balin with a wink. "Just imagine how they'll feel when they hear their noble King Thorin Oakenshield who reclaimed their homeland was brought down by a traitor's knife, and his last wish is to have his highly competent nephew rule. Even the council members who might secretly be aligned with the conspirators may be moved to sympathy, as it was only their intent to harm Héndra, not the king himself."

Just hearing that made Fíli furious all over again, and he signed the dashed lines with relish as he plotted the downfall of the conspirators. Thorin signed his name at the bottom, purposefully making his signature scrawling and weak, which must have vexed him greatly. Kíli, Balin, and Oín all signed their names as witnesses.

"I'll rush these off to the council now to be signed, then bring them back for your seal," Balin said, gathering up the papers after the ink had dried.

Thorin nodded with satisfaction. "Don't be afraid to hurry them along by suggesting I may not live long enough to give the seal myself."

Balin paused by the door and took on the most melancholic and weary expression that Fíli would have sworn could only have been brought by the end of all things. "Gloomy enough?"

"Quite," agreed the prince.

It was silent in the bedchamber for some time after Balin had left, followed by Oín's departure to fetch some necessary supplies. Héndra too excused herself after a few moments to make some tea. Fíli stood in the doorway and watched her as she moved about their apartment, filling the kettle and putting it over the fire, painfully aware how lucky he was to be doing so. If Thorin hadn't reached her in time- but he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. Couldn't imagine having to explain to Finn that his mother wouldn't be waiting for him in Erebor, nor would his expected little brother or sister.

He turned at the sound of a slight cough behind. Kíli was sitting on the wood chest at the foot of the bed, scraping dried blood off his boots from the gore in the hallway with his fingernail. He met Fíli's eyes and gave him a quick half smile, still able to tell when his older brother was brooding. Fíli responded in kind and sat down beside him, and both turned to look at Thorin, who appeared to be sleeping, his chest rising and falling regularly.

Not so. With that finely developed sixth sense of his, the king opened his eyes to glare down at his nephews, who couldn't help grinning like fools and looking away like they'd been caught spying. Fíli expected a biting remark at that, but what Thorin said next utterly surprised him.

"I am sorry for the scene in the hallway, nephews. I would never intentionally cause you pain like that by my death, and I hope you will forgive me for not telling you it was not serious sooner."

Apologies were so rare from Thorin that Fíli found himself stumbling on how to respond it. Kíli unsurprisingly stepped in with a joking retort.

"Not to worry, Uncle. You may have had the others in the hallway fooled, but not us. We didn't honestly think you were dying, did we Fíli? If he was he would have given _me _the signet ring-"

Fíli was just about to give his irreverent brother a well-deserved smack when Balin returned with the documents.

"Well, that went off even better than we expected! Some of those poor councillors were practically begging to be the first to sign it! Now, if I may, lad?" he said, holding out his hand.

Fíli fished the ring of his pocket. He'd felt too unworthy to put it on earlier. Balin poured the wax dot and Thorin stamped each of the papers with the air of a concurring victor.

"That's done then," said Balin with satisfaction. "A copy for the records, a copy for the council, and a copy for you," passing the last sheet to Fíli, who took the time to sit down and actually read it.

"But… but this designates me as the prince _regent, _not the heir apparent!"

"Precisely. You have a problem with that, laddie?"

"No… but doesn't this in fact make me… _king _until Thorin recovers?"

"In all but name," agreed Balin.

"Which means you'll be attending to the council, the trade meetings, and everything else tiresome about being a ruler," said Thorin through half shut eyes with no small amount of satisfaction. Clearly he was very confident and proud of his oldest nephew.

"Don't worry Uncle, I won't leave you alone here bored," promised Kíli, brightly continuing on with his apparently self-appointed task to keep the mood light and cheerful. "Now that you're not king and bedridden to boot, you'll have plenty of spare time! We can play chess! Read books from the Royal Library! You'll never be left alone for a moment!"

"Now Kíli-"

But Fíli didn't hear the rest. He was too busy staring at the paper and formulating a plan in his mind. This was the perfect opportunity to-

"Come on, Kíli we have work to do," Fíli abruptly stood up and headed for the door. He paused half way there and turned to bow slightly in Thorin's direction.

"Thank you, Uncle,"

Thorin only nodded with a slight smile, but the fondness expressed in that reserved action shone clearly through to those who knew him. Kíli followed his brother out of the apartment looking completely mystified. Balin watched them go with an air of concern.

"Do you think that's anything to be worried about, Thorin? He did nearly just lose his uncle and beloved wife to a bloody death by the hands of assassins. Shouldn't we be concerned about vengeance and such?"

"Not at all," said Thorin, undisturbed. Maybe now that everyone was gone he might have time to shut his eyes a bit until Oín doubtlessly returned with an army of healers at his side. His nephew was going to be a fine king, the very best, and he was unashamed to admit probably far better than he ever was.

"I have complete confidence in him."

...

"What did Adad do?" asked Finn anxiously, speaking for the first time since Kíli had begun his story.

Kíli's face split into a grin at the memory. "His first act as Prince Regent was to demote Grain Rockhead-"

"_Rockhart_, dear," corrected Ida.

"-down to a suitably low and demeaning position, and then bring Dwalin back as captain of the Royal Guard. They then made a _most thorough _investigation, though others might have called it a witch hunt, using evidence found on the corpses of the slain assassins. By the end of the day most of the leaders and hired mercenaries of the Iron Hills conspirators had been arrested and the rest scattered. When we left a few months ago Dwalin was hunting down the last of them. But there's no reason to worry over any more attacks in the future. Fíli is now secure as Prince Regent and doing an excellent job of it I must say, even if he is my own brother. Though I think he could do with a few more catapults at the front gates," he finished, winking at Dís and Finn who both snickered, remembering the last time Kíli had given advice on the battlements.

"And how is Thorin doing now?" asked Bilbo.

"Much better," answered Kíli. "Not in any danger, as Oín said. But he's still playing it worse before the general public to give Fíli good reason to keep command. Things are moving smoothly, and public support for the Durin line hasn't been so high since we first reclaimed the Mountain."

"It's good to hear that," said Bilbo. "I suppose things are safe then? Perhaps you have time to stay a bit? You know Frodo and I will be very sorry to see you all go." The younger hobbit nodded emphatically.

"We'd love to, Bilbo, but we're needed back in Erebor. Finn needs to be officially instated as the next in line after Fíli," The dwarfling's mouth dropped open at this. "And I'm sure his mother wants you back in time to meet…"

Kíli's audience looked up at him expectantly. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Did I leave that out earlier?" he asked Ida.

His wife lightly slapped him on the arm. "I was wondering when you were going to mention it!"

"Well then!" he continued unconcernedly. "Finn, your mother wanted you to know the reason she didn't come with us is that she expecting, and therefore unable to travel."

This time both Finn and Dís's mouths dropped open, and Bilbo and Frodo joyfully offered their congratulations at the news. "What's that mean?" asked Taurion in confusion.

"It means Finn's going to have a new brother or sister!" exclaimed Frodo with a grin, patting his shocked-looking friend on the back. "Lucky dwarf!"

"I hope it's a girl, who'll let me braid her hair without squirming all over the place like Tauri," said Dís.

"Most likely not. You know how rare we are," said Ida, smiling at Dís.

"I know," said Dís with a sigh. "You'll most likely get your little brother, Finn."

"I don't care who it is," said Finn breathlessly, now looking very excited at the news. "I just can't wait to meet him, or her!"

After that Bilbo again offered his congratulations and asked all the usual questions on Héndra's health and such. The adults carried on their own conversation a while longer while the younger ones discussed their new addition and who would get to spend the most time with him or her. Frodo, despite his best efforts, looked very downcast while this went on, knowing he would likely never meet the little Durin. Finn and Dís and Tauri tried to reassure him that they would visit soon, but the hobbit knew just how unlikely this was and wasn't comforted. Even so, he tried to be cheerful for the sake of his friends, who were ecstatic about seeing their parents again and discussing their new sibling/cousin. They also spoke in awed tones about the bravery of their Great-Uncle, who it seemed was just as capable of slaying foes as in his younger days that they'd only heard of.

Far after the sun had set, Bilbo finally dragged himself away to serve a light supper of cold meat and bread, and set about prepping rooms for his guests. It cheered his heart to see how eagerly Finn and Dís threw themselves into helping out, as they rushing about with fresh sheets and pillows now that they were well familiar with Bag End and its linen closets. After all were settled in bed, he caught Frodo alone crouching by the fire place, rocking back forth on his heels.

"I was just on my way to bed, Uncle," he said quickly, straightening up when Bilbo came into the room.

"There's no rush. Care to share what's on your mind?" said Bilbo, pulling up a cushioned footstool.

"Nothing," said Frodo absently. His uncle gave him a look.

"Come now Frodo, I know you better than that. Even if we haven't had time to talk as we did before the dwarves came."

Frodo looked rather guilty about that. "There's nothing to feel bad about, Frodo. I know you were busy with your friends. But now I'd like to know what's troubling you."

The little hobbit was silent for a stretch as he repeatedly tugged one of his dark curls and tried to find the words to explain.

"I know they were only here for a visit. I know they're missed at home and need to go back. I'm just… really going to miss them," His voce had dropped to a whisper by the end, and his head now dropped into his hands.

"There now," said Bilbo, pulling his nephew beside him and stared into the dying fire as well. He wondered how to best explain what he was going to say to Frodo.

"I admit when Kíli and Ida arrived, the thought that our guests would soon be leaving saddened me as well. Heart-stealing little rascals..." he broke off with a small smile. "But I told myself to chin up; children need to go home to their family. I did try to convince Kíli to stay a bit longer when we talked alone, but he was quite firm about returning to Erebor quickly."

Frodo nodded miserably. Bilbo was right, he needed to chin up and be happy for his guests. They were going home after all, he would be thrilled if he was in their place. Though he had to admit that after hearing so many tales of the Lonely Mountain and new lands over the last few months, he now had the secret desire to go on an adventure too.

"But then Kíli gave me something completely unexpected," and with that Bilbo pulled out a folded paper out of his vest pocket and placed it in Frodo's startled hands.

It was a fine sheet of folded parchment, embossed along the edges and sealed with a large dot of red wax. Though the seal had been broken, Frodo still could make out the crest of Durin, identical to the careful drawing Finn had spent hours labouring over for the leather cover of their book. The letter was addressed to "Mr. Bilbo Baggins and Master Frodo Baggins of Bag End" in firm, iron-straight letters, a complete contrast to the elven runes he had been learning. The very paper seemed heavy with the weight of its importance.

"May I read it?" Frodo asked apprehensively.

"Well, I wouldn't have given it to you if you couldn't!" Bilbo pointed out with a straight face.

Frodo carefully unfolded it and began to read.

_To the noble hobbits of Bag End, Masters Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, Greetings. _

_I trust this letter finds you well and in continued good health. I thank you for your for generosity in agreeing to shelter my son and brother's children for such a length of time, and I would have sent a handsome reward in payment along with Kíli, only I know you would doubtlessly refuse it. I fervently hope our offspring have been behaving themselves; and can only pray Kili returns with a good report. As it is, I hope that we still have the friendship of the Shire after this occasion._

_I now have yet another favour to ask of you, one that you are free to accept as you choose, without any obligation at all. If it would please the both of you, I would be delighted if you consented to return with my brother and sister-in-law and enjoy the hospitality of Erebor for as long as you choose, be it a few weeks or months. The Lonely Mountain has been nearly restored to its former glory, and it would gladden my heart that the one who played such a large part in the reclamation of our kingdom could see it. I also suspect, if all went well, my son, niece and nephew will all be reluctant to part with you soon._

_But as I said before, this is an invitation given to a friend, not a summons or even official request, and you are both to decide what would please you best. Do not allow the pleadings of dwarflings to sway you (for they can be most persistent, I know). _

_~Fili, Prince Regent of the Lonely Mountain, Erebor_

Frodo reread the letter several times, just to make sure he hadn't imagined any of it. By the time he had finished, a brilliant smile had lit up his face and his eyes shone with delight.

"Does… does this mean…?" he whispered, almost afraid to say the words out loud lest they not be true.

"If you want to my dear boy, I'd be more than happy to visit-" Bilbo was abruptly cut off as his nephew threw his arms around him and rattled off a stream of thanks and delight. He gave up whatever he was going to say, it hadn't been important anyway, and simply hugged his nephew back. Oh well, his writing his book could wait. He had one more adventure to live first.

**The End. **

**Or is it? I have enjoyed writing this story and love my dwarflings too much to give this up completely. But sadly the rest of my life is suffering from neglect, so I need to take a fanfiction writing break. So while I will now be marking this story as complete, I may yet come back and write some future chapters about a certain hobbit's adventures in Erebor (things certainly won't be dull with Finn and Dís and Tauri as tour guides). Remember, you can still let me know in a review whether you think Finn should have a brother or sister (and even name suggestions if you have any).**

**Thank you all so much for following and reading and reviewing, this has been so encouraging to me as an author. And if anyone hasn't left a review yet (yes, I know you're hiding out there) I'd love to know what you thought of this story as a whole.**

**Happy New Year's to all of you! Let's hope 2015 is relatively peaceful and productive (though sadly lacking in new Hobbit movies). **


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